


Steel Moondrops

by faierius



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Action, Action Violence, Adventure, Battle, Behemoth, Blood, Daemons, Dismemberment, Drama, Episode Prompto Spoilers, F/F, F/M, First Time, Gladnis, Gore, I really don't know how to tag this yet, Kissing, M/M, Multi, Mystery character - Freeform, Original Characters - Freeform, Other, Plot, Post Game, Promptis - Freeform, Sequel, Sex, Spinoff, Ungodly amounts of drama, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Vertael Besithia clone, injection, needle, not illegal drugs, relationships, unprotected sex, virgin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-20
Updated: 2019-06-09
Packaged: 2019-06-13 05:59:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 30
Words: 68,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15357792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faierius/pseuds/faierius
Summary: Set many years after the fall of Niflheim and the return of Dawn, the Lucians are busy rebuilding their kingdom. To better themselves, and prevent any more disasters and human experimentation, King Noctis sends recon teams to the Empire to procure technology.On one such mission, his daughter Corrianna and her Shield find something they would never have expected. Certain evils still lurk beneath the streets of the Niflheim capital, even after this many years.





	1. Chapter 1

                Though he spent more of his life in the era of the New Dawn than he did in the Eternal Night, the brightness of day still scared him. His life was lived below ground, in the dank, crumbling ruins. Venturing out of those safe, empty corridors was a last resort, and typically only done after sunset.

                Unfortunately, the trips were becoming more and more frequent out of necessity. Food no longer existed in what he called home. Nothing ventured into his dwelling, so he was forced to go looking. Of course, he knew how to hunt, had been doing so from the time he opened his eyes. Sadly, the edible critters had more places to run and hide up here.

                He went hungry for a handful of dawns before he grew brave enough to expand his hunting ground. The above-place held many treasures; things to eat in shiny packages, small toys to tinker with, noisemakers, new things to protect his body from the elements…But most importantly, a new source of his usual meals. The place seemed to pull an unending source from the surrounding area, and he was the only one feeding.

                Lucky him.

                But luck was not unending. His territory was shrinking, though he was sure no one else like him existed. His food sources were depleting once again, scattered by the mysterious booms and rumbles felt through his safe, empty corridors. He didn’t blame his prey for hiding, as he shut himself into a secluded room as well.

                Terrified by the commotion, he rarely ventured out these days. When the rumbling and booming eased, he quickly scuttled out of hiding to find food before hurrying back to safety. Once, when one of his toys sputtered to life and made noise at him, completely unintelligible, he waited so long to hunt, he nearly starved to death. He had to eat the salty crunchy things in the crinkly bag, though he didn’t feel well for a while after hastily downing the entire thing.

                The noises continued off and on for some time, and he began to wait for them. He could pick out emotions—anger, curiosity, fear, amusement—and he liked those sounds. They were similar to his own throat-sounds, only more defined. He wanted to see what was making these sounds—especially the pretty, happy sounds.

                Curiosity soon overrode his terror.

                As he had done many times before, he found his way to the hatch and opened it to the above-place. Bright light burned his sensitive eyes, but he pressed forward. He wasn’t sure how he would find the pretty nose, but he wasn’t going to let it stop him. It called to him, and he needed to find it, no matter the cost.

 

***

 

                “Ma…Ma!”

                “Honestly, Russ, how the heck d’ya always get so filthy?”

                Sighing heavily with a fond smile on his lips, Clarus gently took hold of his mom’s wrist. “Ma, you have way more dirt on yer face’n I do. ‘Sides, the spit rag to the cheek really ain’t helpin’ me live up to the dignity of my namesake,” he chuckled, ducking away from her hand.

                “That ship sailed a long time ago,” laughed the second woman in the room. Her rich golden-brown eyes twinkled playfully.

                “Ouch, mom. You don’t think I live up to grandpa’s reputation?” Russ asked, quirking a thick brow as he straightened to his spine.

                “Other than your height?” she chuckled.

                “You woulda made both yer granddads proud, Sweetpea.”

                Iris joined Cindy where she stood before their son. “He would have adored you. _Both_ of you,” she said, slipping an arm around Cindy’s waist as she squeezed Russ’ arm. Swallowing hard, she pushed back the sting of tears and smiled brightly at her son.

                “Don’t get sappy on me, darlin’.” Cindy pressed a kiss to Iris’ soft brown hair.

                “Ma, seriously? Yer both saps.” Crossing his arms, Russ shook his head at the women.

                “Well, you had to get it from somewhere, my big scary boy.” Grinning, Iris stepped away from Cindy and landed a light punch to her son’s bicep.

                “Mom, ya gotta stop hitting me. Did you do this to Uncle Gladdy?” Rolling his eyes, he perched on the edge of a portable tool cart. The items on top rattled.

                She shrugged, circling the messy wooden desk taking up space in the corner of the one-car garage. Stooping over, she pulled a drawer open and glanced up at Russ. “Gladdy and I used to wrestle when we were younger.”

                “Gettin’ older didn’t stop ya, darlin’,” Cindy chuckled, pushing a blonde curl off her forehead.

                “Ah, but we called it training, then!” Standing up straight, Iris pulled a box from the drawer and turned back to her family.

                “But yer so much _smaller_ than him,” Russ pointed out.

                “Size has nothing to do with it, Russ. I can kick ass with the best of ‘em.”

                Pursing his lips, Russ lifted his hands defensively. “I know, I’m sorry. You lived through the Days of Night. I know you’re tough.”

                Iris’ eyes darkened a shade, and she pulled her hair over her shoulder to hide a long scar cutting a jagged line from temple to collarbone. Licking her lips and swallowing thickly, she shook her head. “That’s in the past,” she said, forcing her smile back. “Today’s about _you_ , baby.”

                Brows twitching, Russ cast an apologetic glance at Cindy. She would have to calm Iris later. “What do you mean, mom?”

                Exhaling a deep breath, Iris took slow steps back toward her wife and son. “You finally get your first major assignment for the Crownsguard, and you’re asking what I mean?”

                Running his tongue over his teeth, Russ scowled. “Uh…yeah.”

                Chuckling, Cindy ruffled his hair. “’N here I thought you were a smart boy.”

                “I’m perfectly smart, Ma,” he grumbled back, twisting his mouth to one side.

                “This is a big deal, buddy!” Iris declared, propping her fists on her hips. She held a long, flat box in one hand.

                “How so? I’ve been with the Guard since I was sixteen.”

                Grumbling low in her throat and stomping her foot like a callback to her sixteen-year-old self, Iris pouted. Her eyes darted to the black wings curling around Russ’ arms. The tattoo was a symbol of the Amicitia family role, but her son had adapted his to his liking. Much like her brother and his children.

                “Russ, listen. You’re taking the Princess outside the city for the first time. Your role will no longer be a formality.”

                “Uh…what?”

                “Yer finally gonna get to put that _Shield_ in yer title t’use, Sweetpea.” Cindy propped her arm on his shoulder and leaned on him.

                Brown eyes grew wide as Russ glanced between his parents. “I have a title?” he asked, though he couldn’t play dumb long, and snorted out a laugh. “Kidding! Relax, guys. Cori and I have been together forever. I got this.”

                “Not that I doubt your skills, but you’re young and cocky. I’m _intimately_ familiar with that mindset. But never mind that.” Iris waved her hand and lifted the box, presenting it to her son. “I have a present for you!”

                Genuine confusion twisted Russ’ face.

                Smirking, Cindy reached out and tugged on the hair covering her son’s chin. “Is this any way to behave when yer mum’s givin’ you a gift?”

                “Ah, sorry.” Cautiously accepting the box, he held Iris’ gaze. “Thanks, but you didn’t have to.”

                “Course I didn’t, but it’s something I want you to have. In fact, I’ll feel better if you have it.” Shifting from one foot to the other, Iris frowned, eyes taking on a distant haze.

                Sighing softly, Russ opened the box. His brows arched, and he flicked a glance at Iris. “Oh, mom, no. I can’t take this from you.”

                “You can, and you will. It served its purpose for me, now I want you to take it.”

                Sucking his bottom lip between his teeth, Russ studied the gift. A long silver chain with a heavy circular pendant on the end. The pendant featured a detailed image relief of an iris flower.

                “She had that through the Fall, the War, and the Days of Night. It kept her safe, even when I didn’t think she’d come home. It can keep you save too, baby boy.”

                Not used to the sentimental words, Russ glanced at Cindy. “But grandpa gave you this, didn’t he?” he asked, turning back to Iris.

                Swiping a hand over her eyes, she nodded. “And now I’m giving it to you. I know it’s sentimental superstitious nonsense, but it’s still dangerous out there.”

                Honored by the gift, Russ removed it from the box and fastened it around his neck. “Thank you, mom.” Pushing himself off the tool cart, he stooped over and gave the woman a tight hug.

                “Love you guys. And I promise I’ll be safe.”

                “Keep yer Princess safe, too.”

                “Course I will, Ma.”

                Cindy smiled, reaching up to brush her oil-stained fingertips over the pendant now gracing her son’s chest. “And make sure y’all bring me something back to tinker with.”

                Russ grinned. “I’ll try, but I’m pretty sure Gralea’s been picked clean by now.”

 

***

 

                Laughing, loud and bubbly, Corrianna wiped the sweat from her brow. Towel in hand, she eyed her sparring companion, who still lay flat on the mat, looking utterly defeated. Propping her fists on her hips, she nudged the man’s foot and giggled.

                “C’mon, daddy! You aren’t _that_ outta shape, are you?” Flicking her thick black braid over her shoulder, she waited for his response.

                “My shape is fine. I just have a lotta years on you,” he panted, finally pushing himself into a sitting position. “You’ve been training with the twins again, haven’t you?”

                “Only when I want a fair fight.” Grinning, she held out her hand. Fingers brushing the fading ink on the man’s wrist, she grabbed his hand properly and hauled him to his feet. They walked in silence to the side of the room where a supply of bottled water had been left on a table.

                Corrianna peeked up at Prompto from under her eyebrows. The bags beneath his eyes seemed darker these days, his skin pale, and his appetite sadly lacking.

                “How’re you feeling, daddy?”

                Water bottle halfway to his lips, he looked at her with wide periwinkle eyes. “Other than a seriously bruised ego, I’m pretty good,” he chuckled, rubbing the back of his hand over the Gods-awful patch of hair on his chin. She was certain the thing hadn’t changed once in her entire life.

                Sighing, the girl raised a slim brow. “It’s not gonna kill you to tell me the truth, y’know?”

                Capping his bottle, he briefly rubbed the barcode tattooed on his wrist. Kingdom-famous grin lighting up his tired features, he placed a quick peck on his daughter’s forehead. “I’m fine, honey-bun. Just haven’t been sleeping well. Being King Consort isn’t just candy and rainbows.”

                “…Thought it was Prince Consort,” Corrianna said dryly.

                “Your dad promoted me,” Prompto replied with a wink.

                “Ew.”

                Chuckling warmly, he crossed his arms—still tone after all these years—and regarded the girl before him. “It’s the same thing. But, it’s our job to worry about you, not the other way around.”

                “You don’t have a monopoly on worrying, daddy. Besides, with all the dumb men in my life, I find worrying comes quite naturally.” Haughty, she turned her nose up at him.

                “I’m pretty familiar with worrying about dumb men,” muttered Prompto. “Between your dad and your uncles, and more recently your brother…” Shaking his head, his shoulders rose and fell with a heavy sigh.

                “How is Mira’s assignment going, anyway? The bum never has time to talk to me.”

                “All I ever hear are complaints about the cold, then shouts in the background from his team about warming him up,” Prompto grumbled, rolling his eyes.

                Corrianna giggled behind her hand. “Well, he’s always been a popular boy. And honestly, what else is there to do at a remote, frozen outpost?”

                Prompto wrinkled his nose. “Ew, Cori. That’s still my kid we’re talking about.”

                Corrianna nodded. “And he’s my brother. You aren’t gonna keep me from insinuating things about him.”

                “I’ll never get why you guys argue so much. You get along well enough, yet you’re always at each other’s throats.”

                “We don’t mean anything by it, daddy. It’s all in good fun. But enough about that dunce. I’m more interested in what’s in store for _me_.”

                “You’re fighting like the twins and talking like Aranea. Where did my sweet little princess go?” Prompto wondered, an exaggerated pout curving his lips.

                Sighing, Corrianna tucked her water bottle under her arm and reached out to cup Prompto’s cheeks. “Daddy, I’m not a little girl anymore. You and dad have to let me grow up at some point.”

                “Why d’you think we’re letting you lead the next recon team to Gralea?”

                Corrianna and Prompto turned toward the new voice. Looking just as ragged as his husband, the King of Lucis wandered into the training room. His hands were shoved deep into the pockets of his black slacks, his charcoal shirt was partially unbuttoned, and the two-day beard growing on his jaw was more salt than pepper nowadays. The older he got, the more he resembled the paintings of the late King Regis.

                “Hey, Noct. Iggy finally let you go?” Prompto asked with a bright grin. Despite the lines on his face, the bags under his eyes, his sheer exhaustion, that grin never lost its youthful glow.

                Noctis scoffed. “Hardly. I told Specs I had to go to the bathroom and snuck off. He’ll come looking for me soon. How was training?”

                “I kicked his butt. Again.” Corrianna grinned.

                “Whaddya mean _again_? You make it sound like a regular occurrence!” Prompto protested.

                “That’s ‘cause it is,” Corrianna whispered.

                Noctis reached out, tugging the girl’s braid as a soft, loving smile graced his lips. “Go easy on the old guy. He’s fragile.”

                “Noct!”

                The King winked. “Okay, Cor. Go get cleaned up. If I’m not mistaken, your team has a briefing in an hour.”

                Grabbing her dad’s wrist, Corrianna twisted his watch to check the time. Her bright periwinkle eyes grew wide. “Crap!” Stretching out her neck, she planted a quick kiss to Noctis’ cheek, spun on her heel, then did the same to Prompto before taking off.

                The men watched her go. “Do you think she’s ready?” Noctis asked.

                “That girl could have kicked Gladio’s ass back in the day. I think she’ll be fine.” Sliding his arm around Noctis’ waist, he leaned on the man.

                “How is it that parenting two strong-willed kids is scarier than facing Bahamut head on?” Noctis mumbled, hugging Prompto close.

                “Because they have the same stubborn sense of duty we do, and we know full well how much trouble that can land them in,” Prompto answered.

                Noctis chuckled, turning to nuzzle Prompto’s neck. “It was a rhetorical question, dummy.” He inhaled deeply.

                Prompto giggled as the rush of air tickled his skin. “How was I s’posed to know?”

                “You smell good.”

                “I reek like sweat!” Prompto declared, though he knew exactly where this was heading.

                Noctis chuckled. “We both will when I get done with you.”

                “What about your meeting?”

                “Specs can wait.”


	2. Chapter 2

                “It’s pretty, just like you.”

                “I’m 6’3” and twice as wide as you. What about me is pretty?”

                Corrianna shrugged, a playful grin on her full lips. “Your moms.”

                Though he sighed, Russ found himself mirroring her expression. “Really, Cori? That has to be the worst _your mom_ joke I’ve ever heard.”

                “No joke! Your moms are really pretty!”

                “I’ll let ‘em know you think so. C’mon my little Corgi. We’re gonna be late.”

                Corrianna wrinkled up her nose. “Don’t call me that. And who cares if we’re late? It’s only Uncle G.”

                “And this is an official Guard assignment. He may be our uncle, but he’s still the Commander,” Russ pointed out.

                Waving him off, Corrianna picked up the pace and moved ahead of Russ. Her shoulders rose and fell with a deep breath. Of course, she would never admit to the butterflies currently taking up residence in her belly, but there they were. Understandable, though entirely unwanted. Nerves had no place in her life, yet it didn’t seem to stop their annoying presence.

                “I haven’t spent much time with the twins, tell me what they’re like,” Russ said out of the blue.

                Corrianna glanced back at him and saw the not-entirely-disguised concern on his face. She silently thanked him for not calling out her obviously shaking hands. “What do you mean you haven’t spent time with them?” she asked, crossing her arms and slowing to walk in stride with him again.

                “You know exactly what I mean,” he grumbled, gaze falling to the floor.

                Corrianna sighed and reached out to squeeze his hand. “You really need to do something about that inferiority complex of yours.”

                “Feeling inferior has nothing to do with it, Cori. I’m second rate, no matter how you look at it.”

                Nostrils flaring, Corrianna stopped in the middle of the corridor and glanced up at Russ. “I’m so tired of hearing this, Clarus. You are _not_ second rate! You are my Shield, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Huffing out a breath, she put her hands on her hips and glowered up at him.

                Brows twitching into a frown, Russ scratched his nose in a sad attempt to hide the light pink dusting his cheeks. “You didn’t have a choice, Cori. Petram and Germina refused the position when they offered to restore the Glaives. That left me.”

                Groaning dramatically, Corrianna stepped close to Russ, craning her neck to look up at him. “Even if I _did_ have a choice, I would _still_ pick you over them.”

                “Oh, you would not.” Sighing, Russ clicked his tongue. “Why would you take this part-time mechanic over two combat and tactician prodigies?”

                Eyes narrowing dangerously, Corrianna pulled on his beard hard enough to make him wince. “Because neither of them is Clarus Aurum-Amicitia. Now shut your damn mouth and get your ass into the briefing room.”

                Stepping back, Russ performed his most elegant bow. “Of course, Your Highness.”

                Corrianna smacked the top of his head.

                Rubbing his head, Russ stood back up with a bright grin on his face. He chuckled at the color rising in the princess’ cheeks. Affectionately tugging her long hair, he moved past her to open the door.

                As expected, three-quarters of the Amicitia family waited for them in the briefing room. When they entered, Gladiolus’ eyes locked on them with an unamused stare. He sighed, his massive tattooed shoulders rising and falling. His kids, fraternal twins Petram and Germina, barely spared them a glance.

                “You’re late,” Gladio growled, standing up straight. Despite his age, he was still as intimidating as ever. Striding toward Russ, he didn’t blink as his gaze shifted away from the younger man’s face.

                “Apologies, Commander,” Russ stated, standing stiffly and trying not to show his nerves. Gladio’s shift from uncle to Commander was scary.

                “Is that your mother’s necklace?” he asked, ignoring Russ’ apology.

                “Uh, yes Sir. She gave it to me this morning. For good luck.”

                Gladio scoffed and his stern expression cracked. “At least she didn’t give you a massive stuffed animal to haul around.”

                Russ quirked a brow. “Sorry?”

                Corrianna giggled. “Despite daddy nagging him to find a better place, the moogle still sits on the mantle in their bedroom.”

                Gladio snorted. “Somehow that doesn’t surprise me.” Shaking his head, he tapped the pendant. “Looks good on you, kiddo. Okay, let’s get to work. Have a seat.”

                Corrianna smiled softly and gave Russ’ arm a squeeze before crossing the room to the table. She sat two seats away from the twins and made sure Russ put himself between her and them. He wasn’t sure if that was for his benefit or hers.

                “Well, now that we’re all here, we can start,” Gladio said, clearing his throat as he leaned over the table.

                Readjusting her glasses, Germina raised her hand. “Excuse me, but I thought your second hand would be attending this briefing as well?”

                “He was supposed to, yes. But a certain royal pain in my ass decided to run away from his meeting this morning, so he’s still occupied.”

                Corrianna snickered.

                “You’ll just have to deal with me today.”

                “Acceptable,” stated Petram.

                Gladio frowned. “It better be. I’m still your commanding officer, twerp. Now pay attention.” Smacking a control panel on his side of the table, a seam in the middle of the flat surface split. Two slabs of wood slid back to reveal a screen. On the screen was a map of Eos. He tapped a section of the man, and it zoomed in to show the former Empire of Niflheim.

                “Now, I’m not gonna bore you with the historical significance of this area like my counterpart would. You should have learned it all already anyway.”

                “Quite. However, I would like to know why, after twenty years of expeditions, we’re _still_ sending people out there. Surely nothing else of use can be found in the ruins?” Crossing his arms, Petram reclined in his seat and stared at the map.

                “Niflheim is a massive territory, and we don’t have much manpower. There’s tons of tech we don’t understand, and it takes time before we can safely transport or dismantle it. As it is, our sweeps have only cleared about half the capital.” Gladio tapped the screen again. The map rotated to further magnify the city of Gralea. Glowing dots tracked the teams currently deployed in the city. Six teams in all, spread out over the northern section, all well clear of the former control center to the city. The infamous Zegnautus Keep. The Keep was located closer to the city center and was the first place cleared when the recon missions began. King Noctis and his retinue made sure of it.

                “As you can see, we’ve already got people out there. These groups are on rotating patrols, clearing out monster nests and eliminating any straggling daemons that still pop up in the dark. Their main priority is keeping the technophiles safe while they pick apart Nif tech.”

                Corrianna grinned at his wording. Only the Famous Four used the term _technophile_ nowadays. Of course, the science teams secretly adored the nickname.

                “Insomnia was pretty advanced before the Fall, right? How is it the stuff they’re finding is so fascinating?” Russ asked, flicking a glance at Gladio as he studied the dots on the map.

                Gladio sighed, his brow wrinkling as he glanced at the door in hopes Ignis would come save him. “To put it simply, when Insomnia fell, we lost it all.”

                “Very few of the refugees who made it out of the city and survived the Days of Night retained the knowledge needed to rebuild the auspicious level of technology the city once had. True, we have some Niflheim survivors as well, but again, few of those understood what their government was doing. We are balancing our knowledge with theirs and trying to regain what we once had, while also adapting and improving,” Germina explained, interrupting her father.

                “Uh…yeah. That. Thanks, Gem.”

                Corrianna rolled her eyes.

                “Okay, so since we seem to have the north side of the city pretty much taken care of, what about the south?” Russ now asked, shifting his attention back to Gladio.

                “That’s where you four come in.” Tapping the screen a third time, the map zoomed in on what looked to be a park of sorts. The only open space large enough for one of Aranea’s transport vessels to land. Standing up straight, Gladio crossed his arms.

                “You’re sending us for a picnic?” Petram drolled, blinking slowly as he arched a brow behind his frameless glasses.

                Scrubbing a hand over his face, Gladio groaned. “Pete? Zip it for two seconds, please.”

                A self-satisfied smirk settled on Petram’s lips.

                Huffing out a breath, Gladio turned to Corrianna. “Your dads and I struggled with this for a long time, but in the end, we decided it needed to be done. With the reformation of the Kingsglaive proper, this is going to be a joint effort of Glaive and Guard. The four of you will be dropped here,” he explained, pointing at the map. “You’ll set up a base camp and we’ll provide enough supplies for a two-week recon. Over the course of those two weeks, you’ll scout, exterminate, and collect. Anything you’re unsure of, you make note, and we’ll send in the techs. The other teams will be reachable should you need backup of any kind, but remember the distance they need to travel. Their help won’t be immediate.

                “We don’t foresee any major problems, but you’ll have a direct line to myself, King Noctis, and the highest-ranking officer on the ground in Gralea should you need it.”

                “And what, pray tell, would you or His Majesty be able to do if we did call?” Germina questioned.

                “Nothing but provide tactical advice. Or put together a rescue team.”

                “Then why bother?” Petram chimed in.

                “Because this is the kind of support we _wished_ we had! We’re covering all our bases, making sure you kids are _safe_. I’m doing my job not only as your CO, but as your _parent_ ,” Gladio barked, slamming a fist down on the table top. The map glitched.

                The twins flinched.

                “We appreciate it, Uncle G,” Corrianna whispered.

                Taking a deep breath to calm himself, Gladio stood up straight and closed his eyes. Pushing his silver-streaked bangs off his forehead, he sighed again.

                “Would you like us to make daily reports to you, sir?” Petram now asked, voice soft.

                Opening his eyes, Gladio kept his gaze on the table. “Y’know what? Yeah. Yeah, I’d appreciate it.”

                The twins nodded. “Understood.”

                “So, why the sudden decision to land a team there?” Corrianna asked, breaking the tension.

                “We have hopes of making sections of the city livable again. Tensions are still high with the Niflheim refugees, and they want to go home. The south side seemed an easier restoration project. But there’s only so much we can learn in fly-overs. You’re there to get a more detailed account.”

                “So, preliminary accounts show this should be simple and straightforward? This is just to let us get our toes wet,” Russ stated, leaning back in his chair and tapping his foot.

                “Simply put, yeah. But it’s still dangerous out there. You can’t let your guard down.”

                “No, sir.”

                “This is uncharted territory, but I trust you to have each other’s backs, understand?” Gladio looked to each of them, receiving their nods. “Highness, you’ll be leading these idiots” —he smirked, the expression more fond than sarcastic— “because that is where you excel. Not because you’re the princess of Lucis, alright? Your Shield has your back, and your Glaive have his. Rely on each other’s strengths. Help each other. This is a unique team, but we think you’ll make an amazing one.”

                Praise from the famous Gladiolus Amicitia made the team sit up a little taller in their seats.

                “You’re shipping out first thing in the morning. Any questions?”

                “No, sir!”

                “Then go home, eat some good food, spend time with your parents” –he cast a pointed glance at the twins— “and I’ll see you bright and early. Dismissed.”


	3. Chapter 3

                Russ blinked at Germina, dumbfounded. He couldn’t wrap his head around what she was doing or why she was doing it. He admired the massive balls she had _for_ doing it, however.

                “You’re gonna break your brain trying to understand her, Russ,” chuckled Corrianna, her sharp gaze traveling to where Germina stood at the rear of the hold with Aranea Highwind.

                “Okay, but, I mean…sure she’s still attractive for her age, but…why in the hell is Germina hitting on a woman who’s nearly seventy years old?”

                Corrianna shrugged, palms up. “Because she’s Germina.”

                Shaking his head, Russ frowned. The former Commodore turned self-named General—the Dragoon—did not seem her age. She was fit and energetic, her mind as sharp as ever. She and her crew were still contributing to the new world, even after this many years.

                Russ definitely admired her, but he never, even if she was closer to his age, wanted to sleep with her. Then again, he never wanted to sleep with anyone, really.

                Corrianna pressed her finger between his brows, drawing his attention back to her. “Stop frowning. You’re too young for wrinkles,” she teased.

                “If you don’t want me to have wrinkles, maybe y’all better stop stressing me out.” Raising a brow at her, he gave her a gentle shove, knocking her onto her ass on the crate next to him.

                Though she winced from falling hard onto the crate, she giggled and clapped in delight. “Aw, I love it when your accent comes out!”

                Russ’ cheeks flushed. He loved his ma, but he did everything in his power not to sound like her. Especially when around royalty.

                “Oh, don’t pout. It’s cute.”

                Head snapping up, Russ’ jaw fell open as he gawked at the source of the compliment. Petram sat on the opposite side of the hold, intently studying his book and pretending he hadn’t said anything at all.

                Eyes wide, Russ turned slowly back to Corrianna. He leaned over, lowering his voice to a whisper. “Did Petram just compliment me?”

                “He sure did.”

                “Being called cute by your cousin is a bit weird, right?”

                “A little bit.”

                Sighing, Petram adjusted his glasses and scowled.

                “But he has a point,” Corrianna continued, crossing her legs. “You’re like a tame behemoth.”

                Petram snorted at the analogy.

                Squeezing his eyes shut, Russ leaned his head back against the softly vibrating hull. “Everyone compares me to those…”

                “Comes with the Amicitia name, I’m afraid,” Petram chuckled.

                “People call you that, too?” Russ opened his eyes to stare into the same golden-brown irises that remained prevalent among the Amicitia line.

                The corner of Petram’s mouth ticked up. “Not regularly. Primarily during training when I lose my temper. Were I to rank the three of us—you, Minnie, and myself—it would be as such; I, more slender of build, would be a standard, possibly rogue, behemoth. You, a slight mutation on the breed with the light hair, taller, and broad, would be a behemoth Tyrant. My sister, well, she’s the most frightening, isn’t she? She would compare only to a Dread or King breed.”

                “Are you saying I outrank you?” Russ’ eyes grew wide as he glanced from Petram to Corrianna, and back.

                Pushing his glasses up with one finger, Petram scoffed. “Hardly. In the scheme of things, we’re all equal rank here. With the exception of Her Highness, of course. No, what I’m saying is we are all large and intimidating in the eyes of others, just to different degrees. And if we’re comparing ourselves to beasts, like my father—Ignis—I am more frequently grouped with coeurls. Fast, intelligent, deadly.”

                “And so modest!” Corrianna chimed in.

                “Modesty has nothing to do with it, Highness. I am immensely proud of both my fathers, and they are the ones who shaped me. They instilled in me the passion to find strength and knowledge. I see no reason to hide who I am.” Closing the book in his lap, he looked across the hold to Corrianna and Russ. His eyes briefly flicked to his sister and some unknown emotion clouded his gaze. Shaking his head, he stood and took himself to the opposite end of the hold.

                “The hell was that?” Russ asked, leaning close to Corrianna.

                The woman shrugged. “I dunno. The twins are weird.”

                Russ had to concede that point. Though they were the same age, first cousins, and working roughly the same job, he knew so little about them. Germina and Petram were homeschooled by Ignis, trained only with the highest-ranking soldiers, and traveled in vastly different circles than Russ. They were proper Amicitia, proper Shield material. He wasn’t.

                “Clarus, you’re sulking again. Stop it.”

                “I am not.”

                “You are!” Corrianna beamed at him, reaching over to poke the tip of his nose.

                “Ugh, just fuck already,” Germina groaned as she walked past them, following her brother.

                “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Corrianna called back, hands curling into fists at her sides.

                Russ’ face was so hot, he thought he may catch fire. Or set the wooden crates on fire, in turn lighting up the ship and killing them all. If that could take away his mortification, he’d be okay with that.

                “Just ignore her, Russ,” Corrianna grumbled, crossing her arms and leaning back against the hull.

                Refusing to look at her, Russ pushed himself to his feet. “I, um, I’m gonna go sit by myself for a bit.”

                “What? Russ, don’t be like that. Please?” Corrianna stood as well, reaching out to him.

                Scrubbing a hand over his face, Russ ignored her and walked away. Cheeks still flushed, he kept his eyes down as he moved to the most secluded part of the hold he could find. It wasn’t anything but a spot on the floor hidden by a stack of supply tubs, but he couldn’t see anyone else from here, and that suited him fine. This was as alone as he was going to get over the next two weeks.

                Russ sighed into his hands. He had no idea how he would survive with the cousins he barely knew, and his best friend, all with personalities much more powerful than his own. With talents more powerful than his own.

                He still didn’t know why he was here, other than he shared the Amicitia name. Sure, he was strong, and he was smart where it mattered, but he didn’t _fit_. He was cut out to be a mechanic, to take over his ma’s business, not to guard the princess of a nation.

                Leaning back, Russ closed his eyes and listened to the thrum of the ship’s engine. The power calmed him, felt safe and familiar. He knew the ins and outs of these machines, could probably take one apart and put it back together in his sleep. Russ was more comfortable wielding his wrench than he was his greatsword.

                A metallic bang echoed through the hold, startling Russ. Sitting forward, he peeked around his makeshift wall. A toppled crate lay on its side between Corrianna and Germina, and the women just stared at one another. Their expressions were blank, like they weren’t truly angry with one another, just posturing.

                Russ was on his feet before he could think. He sprinted across the space, placing himself in front of Corrianna. “Step back,” he hissed at Germina.

                The woman scoffed, raising a brow. “He’s a little slow, but your Shield seems sturdy enough.”

                “The hell’s that s’posed to mean?” Russ growled, clenching his teeth.

                With a knowing smile, Germina lifted her hands and stepped back. “We set down in an hour. Fix that headspace. Both of you.” Turning, she rejoined her brother.

                Content the woman wasn’t going to further aggravate the situation, Russ turned back to Corrianna. His eyes flicked over her and he grabbed her shoulders.

                “Are you okay?”

                Corrianna blinked up at him. “I’m fine. Don’t look so freaked out, Russ! I’m okay.”

                Sighing, he lowered his head, his hand slipping down Corrianna’s arms. Gently holding her hands, he peeked up at her. “What happened?”

                Pulling her hands away, Corrianna crossed her arms and wandered off. Russ followed. “I was just telling her she was out of line. She had no right to say what she did, and I said as much.”

                “Y-you didn’t have to do that.”

                Corrianna stopped in her tracks and spun to face Russ. He nearly tripped over her. Eyes narrow, she jabbed a finger against his chest.

                “No one speaks to my friends like that, _upsets_ them like that, and gets away with it. And if I could smack some sense into that self-depreciating little brain of yours, I would. I know it’s your job to stand up for me, but you can stand up for yourself, too. Idiot.”

                “I’m…sorry?”

                Deflating, Corrianna leaned her forehead against his chest. “Why are men so dumb?”

                “Um…Am I s’posed to answer that?”

                “Don’t even try.”

                Nodding, Russ reached up and closed his hand around his pendant. Closing his eyes, he knew he needed to kick himself in the ass and do better. He wasn’t going to let his mom down. He wasn’t going to give the twins the satisfaction of his failure.

                “Do you want to help me with the gear check before we land?” Curling her hair behind her ear, Corrianna stepped back and met his gaze.

                “Of course.” Happy for the neutral topic, Russ felt himself relax. Lifting his head, he caught Aranea’s eye across the hold. He nodded at the woman and she shook her head.

                “Is something wrong, ma’am?” Russ asked, his voice cracking.

                “Nope,” she replied, leaning against a bulkhead and crossing her arms. “I’m just feeling all nostalgic about a certain blond shrimp and his useless prince.”

                “My dads?” Corrianna asked.

                The woman scoffed, smirking. “Nice kids. Nothing but trouble, even this far along in my life.”

                “Yup, that sounds like my dads.”

                Rolling her eyes, Aranea stood up straight. “Just prepare for landing. And tell the good King Idiot this is the last time I’m doing a favor for him. I’m too old for this.”


	4. Chapter 4

                As Russ, Petram, and Germina set up their campsite, Corrianna took in their new surroundings. The park would have been spartan before the Days of Night, entirely unlike Insomnian parks. Now the space was overgrown and out of control. What she could only assume were benches, and perhaps a single statue, were entirely engulfed in plant life. Flowers of every color spotted the open space, and the grass was thigh-high. Birds twittered and sang cheerfully in the few trees, and bugs buzzed about happily.

                The empty shells of buildings lent an eerie atmosphere to an otherwise peaceful place. Giant steel and concrete structures loomed high into the sky, casting long shadows over the park. Most of the windows had been shattered, and the rare few still in their frames were opaque with dirt. Flora did a fair job of reclaiming the buildings on the outside, and fauna most like claimed them on the inside.

                A distant rumble rolled through the ground beneath their feet and echoed on the still air of the ghost city.

                “What was that?” Russ asked, pausing as he assembled their kitchen gear.

                “Likely one of the other teams blasting through an obstruction,” Corrianna answered.

                “Very good, Princess,” praised Petram.

                “Hey,” she grumbled, turning to face the man, “just because I like the play dumb, doesn’t mean I am. I’ve studied the reports as a good leader ought to. I’m young, but I know what I’m doing.”

                “I didn’t mean to offend, Highness.”

                “Yes, you did, Pete.”

                Petram smirked at his sister. “Ah, perhaps a little.”

                With a heavy sigh, Corrianna rolled her eyes. “When you’ve finished there, I purpose we start our assignment. There’s loads of buildings to check out close to home, and we’ve still got a few hours of daylight left.”

                “This area was residential. I don’t suspect we’ll find anything useful inside,” Germina offered, stretching her back.

                “Maybe not, but we won’t know unless we look, right?” Hands on her hips, Corrianna turned toward the woman. “If you’d like, we can split up and check the floors faster.”

                “As you wish, Highness. Perhaps this will be a good opportunity for us to get used to one another,” Germina replied, crossing her arms and raising a brow.

                “True,” Corrianna agreed, narrowing her eyes at Germina. She glanced over at Russ, then Petram, and caught the suspicion in their eyes. Telling herself to rein in her wariness of the woman, Corrianna made a conscious effort to shift her expression to neutral. “We’ll start with that building” –she pointed to a six-floor, wide, concrete structure— “and the boys can take off floors while we take even.”

                “You’ll be comfortable without Clarus at your side?” Germina questioned, stepping up to Corrianna.

                The size difference between the pair was comical, but Corrianna didn’t back down. “I’m supposed to be able to trust you, am I not? And in case you’ve forgotten _Gem_ , I am more than capable of taking care of myself should the need arise.”

                “I’ve warned you before about using that name when speaking to me, Princess.”

                “Perhaps I’ll respect you when you learn to respect me,” Corrianna hissed.

                Russ to a step forward, ready to come to Cori’s defense even if she didn’t immediately need it, but he felt a hand on his arm. He looked up to see Petram also watching the women. His expression was blank, but he gave a shake of his head to deter Russ. Was this a frequent occurrence? Russ didn’t spend enough time at the Citadel to see regular interactions between them to know.

                “Will they be okay alone together?” Russ whispered to Petram, not taking his eyes off the women.

                Petram chuckled dryly. “They’ll be fine, just don’t get between them or you’ll make it worse. A lesson I learned the hard way,” he explained, sweeping his hair away from his forehead to reveal a small scar near his hairline.

                “Shit, dude.”

                “Minnie is ruthless when she’s angry, but it isn’t often she lets her temper get away from her.”

                “That’s not the impression she gives off,” Russ grumbled, giving up on the women and turning his focus back to the collapsible lamp post in his hand.

                “Well, if you didn’t go out of your way to avoid us, you may learn differently,” stated Petram.

                Russ froze, eyes sliding up to lock on the man’s face. “ _Me_ avoid _you?_ That’s a fucking joke.”

                Jaw clenching, Petram stared at Russ for a heartbeat. “Is it?” he asked before walking away to work on something else.

                A thick hush fell over the group as they worked to assemble their camp. They all knew the stakes of this assignment, and the faith their parents had in them. Years of slowly building discord were not easily forgotten, however.

                Russ sighed under his breath as he assembled the generator. Lights needed to be set up around the perimeter of their camp to keep straggling daemons at bay. The population of the otherworldly monsters diminished greatly since the return of the Dawn, but they still existed. They would always exist, just in much more manageable numbers and strength.

                Wiping his hands on a rag, Russ stood and took one last look at the generator. Confirming everything was in place and working, he pressed the button to turn it on. The machine hummed to life, delivering power to their lights. He smiled, happy with his work. When he turned around, the others were staring at him expectantly.

                “What’s up?” he asked, gaze moving between them.

                “While it’s nice seeing you in your element Clarus, we were hoping to head out sometime _before_ nightfall,” Germina teased, smirking at him.

                Confused by her shift in attitude, Russ frowned. “You’ll thank me for taking a little longer when you can sleep through the night without being attacked by monsters,” he grumbled back, leaning over the toolbox provided to him. It lacked a few specialty items, but he could make due.

                “Relax, Russ.” Grinning, Corrianna waved him off. “Aren’t you excited about the prospect of foreign tech to play with?”

                Scratching his nose, Russ stretched and rolled his shoulders. “’Course I am, but all this tension makes it hard to be happy about it,” he told the group as he walked over to them.

                “It’s all in your head, cousin,” Germina told him with a grin, slapping his arm. “Let’s get going.”

                “It’ll be fine,” Corrianna assured him, winking as she walked off with Germina.

                “What the hell is going on with them?” Russ demanded, turning to Petram when the girls were out of earshot.

                Tugging on a pair of black leather gloves, Petram smirked. “They have a very hot and cold relationship,” he explained. “Though it has been more on the cold side recently. Of course, you would see that if you spent time with us, where you belong.”

                “Where I _belong_? Since when does anyone think I _belong_? I can’t even scrape up training partners.” Gritting his teeth, Russ glared at the building they were about to enter.

                Petram let out a heavy sigh. “Even if my sister is reluctant, I would like to bridge the gap between us, Clarus. Would you be open to a conversation with me after dinner?”

                “’N how’m I s’posed to know y’all ain’t plotting something?”

                “Because why would I jeopardize my chance to prove myself to the King?”

                Stopping on the threshold of the building, one booted foot nudging the glassless frame of the door, Russ eyed Petram. Nothing in his eyes hinted of deception, but at the same time, he had no reason to actively trust the man. Getting along, even just superficially, would make the next two weeks easier to bear.

                Russ extended his hand, blinking softly. “Call me Russ.”

                Petram accepted the hand and gave it a firm shake. “Pete.”

                “Alright Pete, let’s see what these apartments have in store for us.”

                Inclining his head, Petram followed Russ into the building. The waning sunlight didn’t reach far into the lobby, and they had to turn their flashlights on before proceeding. Cautiously, ready to call on their weapons if need be, the men crossed the lobby. Ignoring the bank of mailboxes on one side, and the shattered mirror on the other, they headed to the door at the back of the space. Fading paint on the door labeled the door as a stairwell.

                “The girls would’a gone up, so should we go left, or right?” Russ asked, indicating the doors branching off the lobby.

                “Left,” Petram replied without hesitation.

                Grabbing the handle of the heavy fireproof door, Russ pulled. The door didn’t budge. He tried again, and still the door didn’t open.

                He peeked back at Petram, who watched with his arms folded and one brow quirked. Though he wasn’t sure why, the expression irritated him to no end.

                When Russ gave the door a third pull, he put more strength behind it. Perhaps a little much, because not only did the door open, the entire top hinge tore free from the drywall in a cloud of dust and mildew.

                Petram blinked at Russ while he coughed and waved away the dust. “A bit excessive, no?”

                “Oh, shut up.” Scrubbing drywall dust from his hair, Russ led the way through the door. He ignored the soft laugh behind him.

                The hallway stretching out before them appeared relatively untouched, despite being uninhabited for more than thirty years. Dirt collected along baseboards and in corners, and water damage bubbled and peeled paint, but there was no debris or animal evidence. The air was thick with mold. Doors opened to single-family dwellings with one or two bedrooms.

                All the suites facing the street had suffered more damage than those isolated in the center of the building. Destroyed windows let the weather in, as well as airborne plant seeds, and small animal life. Water damage, blown over furniture, personal belongings, papers of all kind, and other debris littered the outer suites. Damage was everywhere one looked.

                Piles of clothing were the most disturbing sight, however. Full outfits, untouched even by scavengers, served as a stark reminder of the fate of the former inhabitants. Ninety percent of the city had been lost to the Starscourge.

                Quickly sifting through destroyed belongings, Russ and Petram moved from suite to suite. Some doors were locked or sealed by the unfavorable conditions of decades, and they didn’t waste time on them. The rooms that were accessible didn’t contain anything of interest. As expected.

                Clearing the first floor quickly, they moved up to the third and repeated the process. Finding much of the same, they passed through these suites quickly as well. Petram uncovered an interesting-looking device that could have been a handheld computer, radio, or music player in one suite. After giving it a brief once-over, he handed it to Russ and they moved on.

                Clearing out the rest of the third floor, they found two more of the handhelds, and a set of primitive short-range communication devices. Tucking them into his bag, Russ followed Petram into the stairwell.

                “Careful, these steps are rotten.”

                Petram’s words were backed by a loud crack of splintering wood and a yelp.

                “You okay?” Russ asked, hands shooting up to catch Petram in case he fell.

                “ _The hell was that? We heard it up here!_ ” Germina’s voice demanded in his ear.

                Russ tapped his radio. “Old building with rotten wood steps. We’re good.”

                “ _Be careful, you idiots_.”

                “Are you okay?” Russ asked again.

                “Thank goodness for leather boots,” breathed Petram, twisting as he wrenched his foot free of the splintered wood. His light flashed over Russ’ face.

                Squinting, Russ turned away, looking back at the landing they were just on. Skulking in the corner by the door was a lumpy shadow he swore was not there a minute ago.

                “Uh, Pete?”

                “Yes?”

                “What’s that?” Russ whispered as he pointed to the corner.

                “There’s nothing there,” Petram answered after a quick glance.

                “But—?”

                “Most likely an after-image from my light in your eyes. Come along.” Without waiting, Petram continued up the stairs.

                Blinking a few times to clear his vision, Russ looked back at the corner, and sure enough, the shadow was gone. Shaking his head, he followed Petram, careful on the stairs.

                As they searched through the fifth floor, the lumpy shadow caught Russ’ eye three more times. Once, it was stationary, hidden behind a bed. Once, it was moving, constantly on the edge of his light as he tried to track it. And once, it disappeared before his eyes, but not before he caught sight of leathery skin the color of lilacs.

                Russ refused to mention the creature out of fear of his skills or sanity being questioned. But he knew it wasn’t a figment of his imagination; dark corners still held monsters.

                After finishing up their search, the men headed back downstairs to meet Corrianna and Germina outside. Petram frowned at the back of Russ’ head like it would help him figure out what was inside it. His cousin had been distracted and jittery as they moved through the fifth floor, and it was worrying. Something in that stairwell set him off, and Petram wanted to chalk it up to nerves. But in the face of a threat, Russ was never the nervous kind. A rabid dog and a street thug could attest to that.

                “Find anything besides moldy wood?” Germina asked as the men stepped into the fresh outdoor air.

                “A few trinkets to keep Russ’ hands occupied,” Petram answered. “Yourselves?”

                “Nadda,” grumbled Corrianna.

                “So, are you content then, Highness? I highly doubt we’ll find anything in these other buildings.”

                Wrinkling up her freckled nose, Corrianna thought for a moment. “I think we should be thorough as we clear the area. We’ll go through all of these buildings in time, but we certainly won’t be as slow about it. For now, though, I think it’s dinner time.”

                Russ smiled at the girl and fell into step beside her as they headed back to camp. “Who’s on kitchen duty tonight?”

                “Pete!” Corrianna and Germina exclaimed in unison.

                Petram sighed. “Unsurprising. Very well, I’ll see what I can scrape together.”


	5. Chapter 5

                Reclining in her folding camp chair, Germina twisted her mouth to one side and wrinkled up her nose. Running one hand over the buzzed side of her hair, she let her hand drop to the thin braid hanging behind her ear. Twirling it around her fingers, she scowled at her brother. The guy was never comfortable with others, yet there he sat, having a grand ole time with Clarus Aurum. He was grinning, laughing, letting his guard down…It rubbed her the wrong way.

                As she stared a hole in the side of Petram’s head, slender fingers combed into the long half of her hair. She relaxed immediately, feeling perfectly manicured nails scrape gently over her scalp.

                “I thought we were over this, Princess,” Germina said without taking her eyes off her brother. She crossed her arms and hooked one leg over the other.

                “You’re tense, Germ. I’m just helping with that, nothing else,” Corrianna replied, pulling her fingers through the lengths of Germina’s hair. She always liked the woman’s hair; dark at the roots and naturally fading as it grew to a fawny brown at the tips.

                Unlike her brother, who took primarily after Ignis, Germina was an amalgamation of both her parents. It was like the incubation technology used in her conception forgot to meld their DNA and just gave her a patchwork of Ignis Scientia’s features and Gladiolus Amicitia’s features. Right down to her eyes, which were heterochromatic; green on the right, brown on the left.

                “I thought we decided to limit physical contact,” Germina now said, reluctantly pulling away from the princess’ fingers.

                “Well, yeah, but…”

                “No buts. You can’t backtrack at this point.”

                Sighing, Corrianna stepped back and folded her arms protectively across her chest. “I’m not backtracking, Germ. I just wanted to help.”

                “You want to help? Go save my brother from your charming idiot,” Germina grumbled, rising from her seat.

                Corrianna turned her attention on the boys. They seemed perfectly content with one another. In fact, she had never seen a grin like that on Petram’s face before. Scowling, she looked back at Corrianna. “Would I be saving him from Russ, or you?”

                With a sharp sneer and a scoff, Germina walked away. Taking a few deep breaths to calm herself, she walked until she was past the light perimeter and kept going a little further. Finding a tree, she flattened a swath of grass and sat down against the trunk. She couldn’t see more than the lights from camp here, and that suited her fine.

                Leaning back against the tree trunk, she folded her arms on her knees and stared into the grass. A rodent poked its shiny, twitching nose into her little clearing, sniffing rapidly to make sure it was safe. The little critter crept forward, keeping close to the grass still standing. It pulled at the flattened blades, digging for food.

                Germina watched the little rodent with a soft smile on her face. She envied it for its simple life. Eat. Sleep. Mate. Stay alive. No intricacies, no politics, no relationships, no bullshit. Easy.

                The critter squeaked, finding a seed or something in the grass. It picked whatever it was up in its tiny paws and smelled it.

                Germina was so absorbed in watching the little thing, she didn’t notice the wall of grass shifting and swaying as something else moved through it. The darkness, the heavy shadows outside camp masked the newcomer’s movements just as well as its own natural skills.  It probably would have gone entirely unnoticed if it didn’t try to use its weapon to catch the little rodent.

                A glint of light on steel caught Germina’s attention and her head snapped up. The blade, no bigger than a standard chef’s knife, plunged down into the body of the rodent. The animal squeaked and writhed briefly before falling limp. The blade came up with the critter impaled on it like a morbid shish kebab.

                Germina was on her feet before the blade disappeared back into the grass. She pulled her primary weapon from the Armiger and chased the little knife-wielding thing into the grass.

                Her night vision wasn’t as good as she would like, and she quickly lost track of where the little monster ran. But not before she caught a glimpse of something that resembled burlap. She ran until she reached the edge of the park, but there was no hint of the… _whatever-it-was_.

                Nostrils flaring, Germina let out a grunt and slammed the end of her spear pole into the dirt. Dismissing the weapon back into the enigmatic dimensionless closed where royalty, Guard, and Glaive stored their tools, she trudged back to camp.

                More annoyed now that when she separated herself from the others, she went straight to the tend when she got back to camp. Maybe if she went to sleep, her irritation at missing out on a good daemon fight would diminish.

                Though…had that even been a daemon? Now that she thought about it, her brief interaction had been unlike anything she ever learned about the creatures. True, she knew practical and theoretical knowledge could differ vastly, but something still didn’t sit well with her.

                Shaking her head, Germina pushed the strange encounter to the back of her mind and readied for bed.

 

***

 

                Petram’s excitement about their current topic sobered as Corrianna approached. It was a little sad to see, but the hard expression on the princess’ face was the more immediate concern for Russ.

                “Everything okay?” he asked the girl, scooting over on the bench they cleaned off so she could sit beside him.

                Shrugging one shoulder, Cori leaned on Russ’ shoulder. “I guess? Germina is just being temperamental.”

                “Not surprising,” Petram muttered.

                Pretending she hadn’t heard, Corrianna grabbed the palm-sized device Russ was playing with. “So, what have you boys been over here giggling about?”

                Petram raised a brow. “I’ve not giggled a day in my life, Highness.”

                “You were _both_ giggling. Saw it with my own eyes,” Corrianna teased as she fiddled with the device. “And please, for the love of the Astrals Pete, call me Cori.”

                “Your eyes liked to you, Cori,” Russ said in Petram’s defense, gently nudging the girl with his elbow. “’Sides, it wasn’t anything important. What _is_ important is the plan for tomorrow.”

                Sighing heavily, Corrianna turned the device over to show where Russ had been tinkering with it. A small panel on the back had been removed to expose a tangle of tiny wires and a barely visible motherboard beneath. None of it made sense to her.

                “Highne—Um, Cori? Is something the matter?”

                “I’m worried,” she admitted. Her dads always told her growing up, to be honest when something was bothering her. Nothing good came from bottling things up, and it could help strengthen the bonds with your team, your friends, your _family_. She hadn’t gone wrong following their advice yet.

                “About what?” Russ asked when she didn’t volunteer any more information.

                “This team. Our roles, why we were chosen for something so simple, what will happen if something goes wrong…”

                Russ shrugged. “Sounds like first mission worries,” he told her, reaching up to play with his pendant.

                Licking his lips, Petram raked his fingers through his hair. “Please don’t allow her to shake your confidence, Highness. I know she is very skilled at making others feel small, but you are still our leader and our princess, and we _will_ follow you.”

                Corrianna raised her eyes. “Thank you, but I’ll have to see that from her to believe it. I mean, I did do a number on her trust, so I wouldn’t be surprised if she refused to follow my orders.”

                “Shit, I feel so out of the loop,” Russ grumbled, taking the device back from Corrianna.

                Sucking her bottom lip between her teeth, Corrianna sat up and remained silent.

                Checking his phone, Petram rose to his feet. “If you’ll both excuse me…Russ, I enjoyed our conversation.”

                “Uh, yeah. Same, dude. G’night.”

                Petram bowed to Corrianna and left them sitting in silence.

                “Um…tomorrow I think we’ll do a five-block recon, making note of places of interest,” Corrianna muttered when she couldn’t stand the silence any longer.

                Hands busy stripping wires, Russ only grunted in response.

                Brow twitching into a frown, Corrianna twisted on the bench to face Russ. She put her hand on his shoulder to gain his attention, waiting patiently for him to look up at her. When he finally did lift his head, his expression broke her heart.

                “Talk to me, Clarus.”

                He shrugged, turning away. “What’s to talk about?”

                “You used to be so proud to call yourself Shield. What happened?” she mumbled the question, her hand falling onto her lap.

                He scoffed. “What’s that got to do with anything?” he asked in return, repairing an eroded connection in the little device.

                “C’mon, Clarus. You can’t tell me this sudden attitude shift is nothing. When Uncle G told us we were getting this assignment, you were stoked. It wasn’t until we were on our way to the briefing your stance changed. Tell me what’s wrong. _Please_. I’m your best friend.” Corrianna hated the note of pleading in her voice, but she was desperate. She didn’t want him to pull away again.

                “You’re my only friend,” Russ grumbled, hands shaking as he rerouted one of the wires.

                “Even more reason for you to _talk to me_.”

                Biting the inside of his cheek, Russ huffed. “I’m not doing this right now, Cori. I’m tired, okay? I don’t wanna argue and make things weird.”

                Raising her brows, Corrianna tilted her head. “Huh? Why would we argue?”

                Inhaling deeply, Russ slouched. “When the mood gets like this, we argue. I don’t wanna deal with hatin’ myself fer upsettin’ ya while we’re out here on official business. Or ever, fer that matter.” Clearing his throat, he shook his head and muttered an apology for his accent.

                “Okay, I understand. Um…” Slowly getting to her feet, she put her hand on top of his head. “Don’t stay up too late playing with that, okay?”

                “I won’t. G’night, Cori.”

                “Night.”

                Russ watched her leave and silently cursed himself out. “Yeah, because yer parents’d be super proud of _that_ evasive train wreck.”

                The device in his hand beeped.

                Startled, Russ jumped yet managed not to make a sound. He turned the device over and saw a tiny bulb he never noticed now glowing a pale yellow. The bulb was set into the matte black plastic casing, to the left of a small square screen. The screen itself appeared non-functional, but something about the thing was working.

                “Huh. What are you used for? Are you a phone? Just a personal computer-type-thing? Maybe you used to be a tiny television. Did the Nifs ever watch TV? Somehow, I can’t see them watching stuff like _Malboro-kun_ ,” Russ muttered at the electronic, twisting his mouth to the side.

                A garbled, human-sounding note of surprise filtered through an unseen speaker.

                “Uhh…hello?” Russ asked, eyes darting around like the person who made the sound was nearby.

                After a few seconds, there was no answer, so he tried again.

                “Is someone there?” he asked the device. He checked for a switch or button to push in case he needed to activate the microphone. There was nothing. And again, no response.

                Sighing, Russ tossed the device onto the foam insert of his toolbox. The yellow light flickered out. Scratching his chin, Russ got up and gave the device a long stare.

                Wondering if he imagined the sound, Russ decided it was time for bed. It had been a long day, and hopefully, his mind would be clear in the morning.


	6. Chapter 6

                The first day he heard the noises coming through the funny little box-thing was the first day he knew he couldn’t go to the above-place for some time. Something wasn’t right up there, and he’d be safe down here.

                Food would be a problem, though.

                He knew he would be okay for a few days, and he had the funny crinkly bags full of salty foods if he needed them. He had plenty of water down here, and that could sustain him well enough. Maybe. He didn’t actually know, since he always had at least a little food.

                Shaking his head, he pushed the thought away and chose to focus on his toys. He had taken lots of little things from rooms in the above-place to occupy his time when he wasn’t hunting. And he had lots of time to occupy.

                His favorite toys were the ones that made him focus. Particularly a set of little, different shaped pieces he could put together in any shape he could think up. He played with those often.

                Another was a book, completely unlike the ones where he lived. This book had pictures, not the funny little squiggles he couldn’t understand. Some of the pictures had been filled in with different colors, but many remained blank. He took the book and the colored sticks he found with it and taught himself how to use them. He made pretty pictures.

                In the same place as the colored sticks, he also found funny tubes with liquid colors. They didn’t taste good, and they stained his fingers. At first, he left them where they were—until he saw what he could do with the colored sticks. After living in a place that was nothing but different versions of the same color, he loved being able to make his room happy and bright. It made him smile.

                Sitting back on his heels, he studied his current toy. It was long, made of the same thing a lot of the stuff around here was. He found lots of them in different sizes and shapes in one of the rooms branching off his silent corridors. He broke a lot of them, learning how to take them apart and put them back together, but there were still lots left. He could do it fast now and knew the toys inside and out. Though, like a lot of the stuff down here, he had no idea what they were for. Or where the creators went.

                He _knew_ there were creators. There were actually many things he somehow just…understood. When he woke up a long, long time ago, he knew he was hungry, he knew he was thirsty, he knew he was cold and wet, he was alone, and something terrible had happened. He knew many simple, basic things, and taught himself other things. He learned quickly and could comprehend almost anything when he spent enough time with whatever the thing was.

                He even had friends.

                True, his friends were not like him, but he didn’t mind. He could play with them, enjoy taking short sleeps with them, or just spend time with them. He knew enough to know these bonds were called _love_. He _loved_ his friends. Sure, one of them wasn’t actually alive, but it didn’t make her any less a real friend.

                Tilting his head, he glanced at her where she sat in her usual spot on the other bed. That was another thing he just _knew_. She was a girl, and he was a boy. He wasn’t sure why he knew that; they both had long hair and pretty things to put on when it was cold.

                Shrugging, he smiled at her and turned back to his toy. He was getting too used to this one. Tomorrow he would go find one of the smaller ones to play with for a while.

                Putting the thing aside, he crawled across the floor to his bed, too tired to get to his feet. His mind was calmed, and he wasn’t afraid of the noises anymore. He could sleep well tonight.

 

***

 

                The first three days of their mission passed in uncomfortable silence. Petram and Russ seemed to gravitate toward one another, finally given the chance to be friends. Germina remained stubbornly irritated, and Corrianna was left alone.

                She didn’t like being alone. So used to having someone to talk to, be it her parents, her staff and attendants, acquaintances, or Russ, she didn’t care for this isolation. She _was_ happy the boys were getting along, but she could also admit to her jealousy. She wanted Russ back, but he didn’t seem to have any interest in talking to her. It was upsetting.

                “Most of these places are no longer habitable,” Petram commented when he returned to the group. They found a few interesting locations for later scouting, but for the most part, every building in the area seemed residential.

                Corrianna sighed, pushing her bangs off her forehead. “Disappointing, but not unexpected. The rehoming effort is going to take a lot longer than they’re hoping for, I think.”

                “Honestly, most of the Nifs our age don’t even care about reclaiming Gralea,” Russ replied. “They grew up in Insomnia, so to them, it’s home.”

                “The old folks have been making a stink about it for decades, though,” grumbled Germina. Combing a hand through her hair, she kept her sharp eyes on their surroundings. The quiet streets could hold threats, even if they weren’t immediately clear.

                “It’s still something that needs to be done. We won’t be able to house everyone in the Crown City forever. Rebuilding a world takes time, and Eos lost a lot,” replied Corrianna, folding her hands behind her back.

                “By the time your brother takes the throne, we’ll have made great strides,” Petram assured her.

                “And we all know Mira will put that off until absolutely necessary,” Corrianna joked, smirking.

                “We’ve got time.” Slinging his arm around Corrianna’s shoulders, he gave her a squeeze.

                With the simple gesture, it was like the group let out a breath they had been holding for the last three days.

                “How far from camp are we?” Russ asked, glancing back over his shoulder. A light breeze blew a few sheets of paper into the middle of the street in cliché post-apocalyptic fashion.

                Petram pulled his phone from his jacket and opened his tracking app. “About fifteen blocks.”

                Russ let out a whistle.

                “We’ll do the twenty-block radius tomorrow, then go back and do room-to-room searches of our points of interest,” Corrianna told them.

                “Who wants to spar later?” Germina asked, ignoring the princess’ instructions. “I need to burn off some energy.”

                “Actually, a little exercise sounds like a good idea,” Russ answered, surprising everyone. “Hand-to-hand, or with weapons?”

                A slow grin spread on the woman’s face. “How about a little of both? I want to see why my dad is the only one willing to train with you.”

                Corrianna’s brow twitched and she looked up at Russ. “Is that true?”

                Blushing fiercely, he averted his gaze. “Uh…yeah.”

                “How come you never told me? I would have trained with you!” Pouting, she slugged her friend in the shoulder.

                “Ow!” Rubbing his arm, Russ stepped away from the girl. “Appreciate it, Cori, but it’s fine.”

                “It’s _not_ fine! How come you guys wouldn’t help?” she demanded, glaring at the twins.

                “There were…rumors,” Petram muttered.

                “Surprised they never reached your ears, Princess,” Germina added with a quirked brow.

                Corrianna stopped in the middle of the street and held up her hands. “Wait. Hold up. What rumors?”

                Russ and the twins fell silent. Petram and Germina looked to Russ to answer.

                “Clarus!”

                Flinching, he rubbed his hand over the back of his neck and sighed heavily. “To put things simply, Uncle G is the only one who will train with me because he’s the only one who isn’t afraid of me.”

                Corrianna looked Russ up and down, scowling. Maybe it was because she knew him well, had seen him at his most vulnerable, could see him here now, blushing, but she simply could not believe his words.

                Germina smacked her between the shoulders. “It’s true, Princess. Your charming idiot is the bane of the entire garrison.”

                “Can we _not_ talk about this?” Russ muttered, fiddling with his pendant again.

                Corrianna huffed out a breath. “No. Y’know what? _No_. I’m tired of this weird atmosphere between us. _All_ of us. Our parents think we can make an amazing team, and I’m not going to let secrets and lies prove them wrong. We’re in this together, Gods be damned!” Her shout echoed through the streets, reflecting back at them, loud and fierce.

                A low roar answered the echoes.

                The team froze, if only for a second, before calling their weapons forth. Germina gripped her spear, Corrianna held her daggers at her sides, Russ slung his greatsword across his shoulders, and Petram flexed his fingers around the grip of his sword.

                The roar came again, louder as the ground briefly shook beneath their feet. There was an eerie pause, then another quake. Again. And again. And again. Footsteps of a very large beast.

                Though they could easily run, they were here to exterminate any beasts making home in the city streets. They stood their ground, waiting to see what creature was coming to say hello.

                After an agonizing wait, feeling the vibrations move closer, shaking their bodies, the guessing game came to an end. Enormous curved horns, ink black. A paw, tipped with claws of the same shade. A muzzle, and a mane. Skin the color of sand clinging to bulges of rippling muscle.

                The beast rounded the corner, plodding across broken concrete to stand in the intersection. Its claws tapped on the ground before the pads of its gargantuan paws set down. Its muzzle wrinkled, barring yellowed fangs as it growled at the team.

                “Shit. A real-life behemoth,” Germina commented with a grin as she shifted her stance.

                “Didn’t know they bred out here.”

                “It is an odd coloration.”

                “Admire later, fight now,” Corrianna hissed.

                “Whatever you say, Princess.”

                “Cori, ready your spells. Russ, draw its attention so I can circle round behind. Germina, go for the flanks,” Petram instructed, eyes locked on the beast.

                Opening its maw, the behemoth let out a window-shattering roar, shifted one massive forepaw, and charged toward them.

                “Let’s go!”


	7. Chapter 7

                Sweat poured down his sides as he jumped onto the top of an abandoned car and leaped at the behemoth. Swinging his weapon at the same time, he let the momentum of the heavy blade carry him through the air. The beast howled, turning with surprising agility. One massive black horn caught him around the middle, trying to throw him, but he held tight. Breathless, he pulled himself up onto the rough, almost porous protrusion, holding on for dear life.

                “Russ, what the hell are you doing?” Corrianna shouted at him, warping away when a giant paw came down on her position. Claws swiped through the blue ghost left in her wake.

                “No idea!” Russ called back as he somehow ran across the horn and onto the behemoth’s back. Twisting his free hand in the coarse fur that served as the beast’s mane, he struggled to keep his balance. The behemoth bucked, trying to throw him off, but Russ wasn’t going anywhere. Absorbing every twist, shift, toss, and throw the creature tried to use, he clung on and thought out his next move.

                On the ground, Petram performed a flawless backflip to avoid the sharp fin on the end of the beast’s tail. He swung his sword, lunging back at the creature. The edge of his blade sliced through the fleshy part of the tail, nearly sheering half the fin off. Blood sprayed from the wound.

                Close by, Germina plunged the end of her spear into the behemoth’s thigh, twisting the blade.

                Howling in pain, the behemoth reared, giving Corrianna an opening to slip beneath it and deliver an attack to the softer flesh of its belly. Slashing with her daggers, she cut deep wounds into the muscle of its chest, then warped away before the beast came back down.

                Russ was still balanced precariously on its back, hand twisted in its mane. He just needed to wait for his opening. Somewhere he could plant his foot without slipping. If his companions kept their attacks aimed at its limbs, he may never get his chance. This felt a lot like trying to ride a very big, very angry chocobo. Lucky for him, he had experience doing just that.

                Knees bent, Russ took a deep breath smelling of rancid meat and oil. Behemoths weren’t the most pleasant smelling beasts on Eos. He flexed his fingers, loosening his grip on the man and tightening his grip on his sword. Flexing the muscles in his legs, he crouched low, and though he didn’t have a clear chance, he took it anyway.

                Petram’s jaw dropped and he nearly tripped on his own feet backing up to keep his eyes on Russ. Corrianna and Germina were much the same.

                “What the _fuck_?” Germina shouted.

                Much like he had done when he first mounted the beast, Russ used the weight of his blade to give him extra momentum when he launched himself off the behemoth’s back. High in the air, he turned his greatsword toward the ground and gripped the handle tightly. It seemed like he hung in the air for a split second before plummeting back down.

                Though the end of his sword was flat, it was sharp, just like the edges. It sank into the corded muscle to the left of the behemoth’s spine. Russ’ weight and the edge of the blade took over with gravity’s help, and he sliced through thick, tough flesh and muscle. Like a cord on a pulley wheel, Russ slid down the left side, under its massive jaw, then back up the right side, completely severing the beast’s neck.

                Landing back on the monster’s shoulder, covered head to toe in blood, Russ rode the carcass down. When the head fell away from the body, he jumped back to the ground. Shaking his head, flicking gore from his hair, Russ stepped around the spreading pool of near-black blood leaking from the fatal wound.

                “What. The. _Fuck_?!” Germina demanded again, dismissing her spear in a flourish as she jogged toward Russ.

                “Is the profanity really necessary?” Petram sighed, joining them.

                “Uh, yeah! Explain _that_ shit, Aurum!” Germina flung her hand behind her, gesturing at the behemoth.

                “Um…” Russ frowned, flexing his sore hands after sending his weapon back to the armiger. He glanced up from under his eyebrows to see Corrianna staring at him. Her periwinkle eyes were huge and round, her mouth hanging open. Awe was painted all over her face.

                “Who, may I ask, taught you that?” Petram asked, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket and handing it to Russ. “It certainly was not my father.”

                Wiping his face clean, Russ hummed. “Can’t say anyone taught me,” he admitted. “I just kinda went for it, y’know?”

                “No wonder the rumors about you spread so fast! You have _that much_ raw power and no control over it!” Seething, Germina spun toward Corrianna and narrowed her eyes. “I won’t stand for this, Highness. I won’t work with this loose cannon. This second-branch, job-usurping, brother-stealing asshole!”

                “Germina!” barked Corrianna, bristled on Russ’ behalf. “Stand down.”

                Teeth clenched, fists curled, shoulders shaking, Germina stepped up to the woman, towering over her. “With all due respect, _Highness_ , bite me.”

                “Glaive Amicitia, you will stand down,” Corrianna hissed back.

                Licking her lips, Germina leaned down and whispered to Corrianna. When she finished, she stood up, bowed, and started walking back to camp.

                Lips pursed, entire body vibrating with rage, Corrianna inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly to calm herself.

                “Um…I’m sorry. I didn’t, um, I didn’t know I was…” Trailing off, Russ scratched the back of his head.

                Petram put a gentle hand on Russ’ shoulder, stepping in when Corrianna didn’t answer. “Don’t take my sister’s words to heart, Clarus. She’s always been hot-headed and quick to jealousy.”

                Sighing, Russ shrugged. “But she’s right, though. At least on the points I understood. The reason no one wants to train with me is because I…” Nostrils flaring, and teeth clenched, Russ’ eyes blurred with tears.

                “It’s okay, you don’t have to say,” Petram whispered.

                “If uncle Ignis hadn’t been there to assess new cadets, my partner wouldn’t have gone home to his family that day. I would have been responsible for someone’s death at age fourteen. I wanted to quit then and there, but…they wouldn’t let me.” Tears rolled silently down his cheeks when he squeezed his eyes shut.

                Hand dropping to his side, Petram cast a pleading glance at Corrianna.

                Though she promised at a young age not to target people when warping, Corrianna couldn’t move her feet on her own. Leaving her ghost behind, she slammed into Russ’ chest, flinging her arms around his torso. He stumbled back a few steps in surprise but didn’t fall over. He returned the embrace.

                Once again feeling like a third wheel, Petram turned away to study the behemoth carcass. Part of him wanted to go after Germina and calm her down. He wanted to know what she meant by calling Russ a job usurper and brother stealer. The other part of him wanted to leave the temperamental woman to her own petty problems. For the first time, he chose to remain behind. She was out of line today, and his duty was protecting the Princess of Lucis.

                Of course, he was worried about Germina as well, but he knew better than anyone she needed time to cool down before anyone could talk to her. He suffered her harsh words and skilled fists more than he cared to admit. No one had been able to tame her hot blood, and it remained a point of contention at home.

                Clearing his throat, Petram turned back to the others. “I do hate to interrupt, but perhaps we’d best not draw this out too long right now?”

                Sighing, Corrianna squeezed Russ’ arm. “You’re right, Pete. Um, I think we all need to sit down and clear the air before we head back out tomorrow.”

                “Capital idea, Highness. Shall we head back?”

                Corrianna nodded, swallowing hard. Puffing out her chest, she pretended she didn’t just lose control of her team. And tried to tell herself she wasn’t a complete failure as a leader, a friend, and a princess.

 

***

 

                Hate was not an unfamiliar concept to Germina. She spent a lot of her life with that feeling. Hating herself for being a woman, hating people for being stupid, hating her brother for the special treatment he received, hating her parents for coddling Petram because of a birth defect…So much hate. It fueled her, made her work hard, drove her in her attempts to be good enough for the Famous Four. She never felt good enough for either of her dads. They were amazing. They saved the world. She just…existed.

                And now her bratty cousin just blew her out of the water with sheer power. The second-branch Amicitia with no training was stronger than she could ever hope to be.

                It seemed Clarus Aurum was so good at stealing the only things that made her happy in life.

                Germina kicked a chunk of rubble, sending it skittering down the street. Seething still, she punched the hood of a rusted-out car, then kicked the half-deflated tire.

                Something scrambled out from behind the dead vehicle and scuttled off between two buildings. Brown burlap caught her eye before the thing slipped into the shadows.

                “You!” snarled Germina, chasing after the whatever-it-was. It was damned fast, always well ahead of her, slipping from shadow to shadow in alleys and hollowed out buildings. It was teasing her, allowing her to catch glimpses of its weird hooded sack robe, and its bizarre fish tail. The tail was leathery, mottled lavender in color. Something about it was familiar, but she couldn’t place it.

                Germina chased the fish-tailed, sack-wearing oddity for five minutes before she finally lost it to the shadows of Gralea. Cursing, she stopped to catch her breath and check her tracking. She was a long way from home, and it was getting dark.

                Glaring at the last place she saw the creature, she vowed to catch it before this mission was over, then turned and started back to camp. She couldn’t avoid the others forever, even though she wanted to. Especially after what she said to Cori. Just this once, she may have crossed the line.


	8. Chapter 8

                Making herself comfortable on the floor of her tent, Corrianna propped her old, salvaged laptop on her duffle bag and double checked all the connections. Thank goodness for Crown City tech. It always worked, and the signals always seemed stable, no matter where you were. The boosters set up in Gralea helped.

                Telling herself she wasn’t a failure for doing this, Corrianna called home.

                When he answered the call, Prompto was bleary-eyed, messy-haired, and his too-big shirt was falling over his shoulder. His sleepy face lit up when he saw his daughter’s face.

                Corrianna could not say the same. As soon as she saw him, tears blurred her vision.

                “ _Cori! Oh, no! What’s wrong, honey-bun? What happened? Are you okay? Is everyone else okay? Do you need help? Should we send someone? What d—_ ”

                A hand closed around Prompto’s mouth and a second person came into frame. Easing his stiff body onto the bench next to is husband, Noctis studied his daughter’s face for a moment before speaking.

                “ _What’s wrong, Cor?_ ” he asked softly, dropping his hands to his lap.

                Corrianna looked at her parents’ tired, worried faces and had to choke back a sob. Not only was she failing her first mission, she roused the King from his bed just to seek comfort.

                Seeing the tears and conflict in her eyes, Noctis gave her a soft smile. “ _I’m your dad first and King second. Don’t worry about waking us, just tell us what’s up._ ”

                “ _We’re here to help, kiddo!_ ” added Prompto.

                Swallowing hard, Corrianna wiped her eyes. “I don’t know what I’m doing,” she eventually mumbled without looking at them. “I’ve lost control of my team, and I’m afraid I’ll never pull it back together.”

                “ _Why do you feel you’ve lost control?_ ” Noctis asked, watching her with an unwavering stare. Few people knew it was an expression he had to learn, and he wanted to keep it that way.

                “We had an…incident today. There’s…a lot of secrets between the four of us, it seems. None of us, including myself, had seen Russ fight before, and it…sorta set Germina off,” she explained.

                Noctis and Prompto exchanged a glance. “ _We’re gonna need a bit more than that if we’re gonna help, honey-bun,_ ” Prompto told the girl, curling a chunk of hair behind his ear.

                Corrianna combed her fingers through her hair and frowned at the keyboard of her laptop. Was this worth divulging the mess that happened this afternoon? She’d have to leave out a few details of course, but she _did_ need their guidance.  Taking a deep breath, she licked her lips and started her story from the beginning.

                Noctis and Prompto listened silently, expressions unwavering as their daughter explained her situation. While more outwardly emotional like Prompto, her fears and lack of confidence were very much like Noctis at that age. She oversaw some of the strongest personalities in his Guard, and it wasn’t going to be an easy task. Noctis knew this when he suggested her for the command. Of course, as the commander of the Crownsguard, and overseer of the newly reformed Glaive, Gladio had the final choice.

                There were very few decisions made in the kingdom that didn’t cross all four of their plates—Ignis, Gladio, Prompto, and Noctis—before a final plan was set. Though, of course, Noctis held the most weight in those choices, he valued the opinions of his brothers.

                He was seeing a lot of their early days in Corrianna’s team, though not even Gladio was as brash and hot-headed as his daughter.

                “ _Take a breath, Cor,_ ” Noctis instructed when she was done speaking. Tears ran down her cheeks, and he wanted to pull her into a hug. He could feel the same from Prompto.

                Closing her eyes, Corrianna inhaled deeply, held it for a moment, then let it out. Swiping her hands over her eyes, she looked up at her dads. “What would you do?” she asked Noctis.

                Prompto snorted.

                Noctis smacked him without breaking eye contact.

                “ _Ow!_ ” he laughed. “ _Sorry, but you’re like,_ the worst _person to ask for leadership advice._ ”

                “ _I’m the_ King _!_ ” Noctis reminded his husband.

                “ _Maybe, but you lead_ us, _and let’s be honest, that didn’t require a whole lotta effort, hun._ ”

                “Dad’s a great leader,” Corrianna interrupted.

                “ _He’s been at it a long time._ ”

                “ _It took too much tragedy, a lot of learning and guidance from my friends to get where I am now,_ ” Noctis told her. “ _I’ll say this; don’t let it fester. These problems and grievances Germina has? Talk to her. It can go a long way._ ”

                “ _Something else you learned the hard way,_ ” Prompto teased.

                Noctis smacked him again.

                Combing her fingers through her hair again, Corrianna sighed heavily. “Talking doesn’t help, especially with her. She’s not the chatty type. And who am _I_ going to talk to? Who will listen to my grievances?”

                “ _We’re here now, honey-bun._ ”

                “Daddy, you’re sweet, but I can’t always rely on you guys.”

                “ _Take advantage while you can,_ ” Noctis said, his eyes hazing as his looked down at his hands.

                Guilt stabbed at Corrianna as she watched Prompto rub Noctis’ back. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

                Noctis raised his hand, waving her off. “ _It’s okay, Cor. Promise._ ”

                Twisting her mouth to one side, Corrianna fiddled with a crease in her pant leg. She hadn’t really solved the problem she called about, but somehow, she didn’t really need them to solve it. She had plenty of experience dealing with Germina and simply overreacted to her outburst. If she thought about it before impulsively calling home, she could have gotten through this without embarrassing herself. She didn’t have an advisor to bounce things off like her dad had, either. Maybe she’d look into getting one when they got home. Though she wasn’t sure how Russ would feel about someone else taking up her time.

                Prompto laughed, pulling Corrianna from her thoughts. Her eyes snapped up, brows arched in question at the fondness on her parents’ faces. They smiled at her, soft and warm.

                “ _That is the face of a problem solver,_ ” chuckled Prompto.

                “Huh?”

                “ _No one’s ever told you, apparently. When you’re thinking really hard about something, you get a certain expression on your face. Ever since you were a baby,_ ” he explained.

                “ _Used to piss Mira off to no end,_ ” added Noctis.

                “Why?”

                “ _Because when you get that look,_ nothing _stands in your way._ ”

                Corrianna’s cheeks flushed at her dad’s words. She hadn’t been thinking anything important. In fact, she only created a new problem for herself. “Um…”

                The men waited for her question.

                “Russ and I have always been friends, right?”

                “ _Since you were born._ ”

                Corrianna swallowed hard. “Then how come I feel like I don’t know who he is anymore?”

                “ _That’s not something we can help with,_ ” Noctis told her, his own heart aching at the pain in her eyes.

                “ _You’ll figure it all out, though. You always do._ ”

                “Thanks, guys.”

                “ _While we’ve got you here, how ‘bout a report?_ ”

                Corrianna sat up straight. “Yes, sir.”

 

***

 

                “Still working on that?”

                Russ raised his head at Corrianna’s soft voice. Licking his lips, he gestured vaguely with the boxy device in his hand. He surmised it was some kind of communication device. “Yeah, I think I’m getting somewhere with it?” Though he hadn’t heard anything through the speaker since the first night.

                “How can you tell?” she asked him, sitting gingerly on the other end of the bench.

                Russ glanced at Corrianna, brow twitching. She sucked her bottom lip between her teeth, tucked her hands between her knees, and kept her eyes on the ground. Every couple of seconds, she would peek up at him.

                “Um…The light is on?” Snorting, he grinned at her, hoping to break this weird tension.

                Her mouth turned up in a half-smile. “I suppose that’s a pretty good indicator.”

                The pair fell silent, not looking at one another, fidgeting awkwardly with whatever was in reach. Russ absentmindedly fiddled with the electronic, while Corrianna tugged at wrinkles in her clothes. Nocturnal animals called to one another, filling the cool night air with sounds of life. Petram read silently by a lamp, and Germina secluded herself in her tent without speaking to any of them. Unless he or Corrianna left, which they were both too stubborn to do, something had to be said.

                “That time you were sick, and I didn’t see you for a week…you weren’t actually sick, were you?” Corrianna asked without looking at him.

                Setting the device aside, Russ took a deep breath and sighed. “No. That was after the accident.”

                “Why didn’t you tell me?”

                “I wanted to!” Russ answered without hesitation, turning to face the woman. “I wanted to,” he repeated, softer. Glancing away, he scowled and scuffed a hand through his hair. He didn’t want to have this conversation right now. Or at all, for that matter. But this was long overdue, and it if would fix this strange funk in their relationship, he’d swallow his fears.

                “I wanted to quit, but they refused to let me. I locked myself in my room for a week. It took the combined efforts of both my parents, uncle Ignis, uncle G, and King Noctis to convince me I wasn’t the dangerous menace I thought I was. They said if I could focus and learn to control my strength, I’d do amazing things.”

                “You _can_ do amazing things. That move I saw today was _outstanding_!” Corrianna assured him.

                Russ shook his head. “Germina is right, though. I’m too dangerous. I mean, I’m happy people have faith in me, that _you_ have faith in me, but I don’t want to hurt anyone. I’d never forgive myself if something like that happened again.” Head down, Russ twisted his hands together and stared at the flattened grass between his feet.

                Silence stretched between them again, and when Russ braved a glance at Corrianna it was like someone dumped a bucket of ice water on his head. She glared fiercely at him, angry tears tracking down her freckled cheeks. Fists clenched and nostrils twitching, she didn’t hold back as she punched him in the arm.

                “No one asked you to get that tattoo, Russ! You didn’t _have_ to inherit the position of Shield. You could have said no!” she yelled at him as he flexed his arm and rubbed the feeling back into it.

                “How the hell else was I gonna prove I’m worthy of being your friend?” he shouted back. “I might bear the Amicitia name, but that doesn’t mean I can just ride on that alone. I’m trying, Corrianna, but being surrounded by amazing people like you and the twins…I’m out of my league.”

                Corrianna punched him again.

                “Ow! Stop that!”

                “Then you stop!”

                Corrianna and Russ stared at each other with matching expressions, challenging one another.

                “Clarus Aurum-Amicitia, you are in a league all your own. And don’t ever forget that,” Petram called without looking up from his book.

                “That’s my line!” Corrianna told the man, sitting up straight and propping her fists on her hips.

                “I apologize for interrupting, Highness, but this is a small camp and it’s hard not to overhear _everything_. Also, I felt I needed to waylay yet another insufferable silence.” A smirk curved his lips.

                “Go back to your book, you nerd!”

                Chuckling, Petram continued reading.

                “Now do you believe me? You’re am—!” The word died on her tongue when she turned back toward Russ. He stared off into the distance, lips parted, brown eyes misty, and face as red as the soles of Crownsguard boots. “Russ?”

                “Uh,” he stared, clearing his throat, “y’all sure know how ta put pressure on a guy.”

                Petram’s sigh of exasperation reached them clear as day. He set his book aside, rose from his seat, and crossed the camp to where Russ and Corrianna sat. Propping one fist on his hip, he shifted his stance and arched a brow at Russ. The blond blinked up at him in question. Petram puffed a sigh through his nose, lifted his other hand, and flicked Russ between the eyes. Without a word, he returned to his seat across camp.

                Jaw hanging and eyes wide, Russ gawked after the man.

                Corrianna nearly fell off the bench, laughing.

                “What the hell, Pete?” Russ’ voice cracked as he leaped to his feet.

                “Problem, Clarus?” drawled Petram, propping his head in his hand.

                “You _flicked_ me!”

                “And I’ll do it again if I hear any more nonsense from you. I’m sure Her Highness will have no qualms about it.” Blinking, his gaze shifted from Russ to Corrianna, and back.

                “In fact, it’s an official order, Glaive!” Corrianna called back, still laughing.

                “Of course, Highness.”

                “Oh, it’s like that, is it?” A predatory grin spread on Russ’ face and he lunged at Petram. Grabbing the man’s arm, he hauled him out of his chair and hoisted him onto his shoulder. Indignant, Petram yelped and flailed while Corrianna laughed so hard tears streamed down her face.

                They had no idea the communication device remained on where it lay abandoned, picking up every sound and every word.


	9. Chapter 9

                The days were getting harder and harder to pass as his stomach growled and roiled relentlessly. He was growing weak, starving, and eyeing up his weird crinkly bags of food taken from the above-place with longing. He knew there wasn’t much value in the salty, crunchy things, but right now, it was better than nothing.

                He was still too frightened to venture from his safe hallways to hunt in the above-place, but each night that fear diminished. He was growing used to the throat-sounds coming through the little box. Almost…excited to hear them at the end of each day. At first, they sounded so sad, and it hurt in his chest. But last night, he was so thrilled to hear happiness. The pretty noise maker affected him most. He felt those emotions strongly, and they seemed so familiar.

                Truthfully, he enjoyed all three of the different noisemakers. They were all nice to listen to, but the softer, pretty one called to him. Wanted to be found.

                Frowning, he pushed his hair away from his face and rose sluggishly from his bed. His body was heavy, and it took the last of his energy to open the metal box at the end of his bed, take out a crinkly bag, and open it.

                He didn’t move from his spot on the cold concrete floor until the bag was empty, crumbs and all. His stomach grumbled, he belched—acidic and watery—almost vomiting. Pouting, he put a hand to his belly and crawled back onto his bed. This didn’t feel much better than being four days hungry.

                Whimpering, he rolled onto his side and clutched his belly. On the bright side, his stomach was no longer gnawing at itself, which was something anyway. Though with this new pain, he didn’t think he’d be able to enjoy the noises from the box tonight.

                Sighing, he pulled his knees closer to his chest, curling in on himself. He couldn’t keep doing this. Couldn’t keep starving himself because he was scared. Couldn’t keep listening idly to the noises and ignoring how much he wanted to know what made them. His fear and curiosity fought hard, and fear had been winning. No more. As soon as this rumbling, gurgling pain passed, he would go to the above-place. He would find food and the source of the noises. He wasn’t sure _how_ , but he never let that stop him in the past. He was nothing if not stubborn.

                Closing his eyes, he let out another sigh. Sleep was not going to come easy tonight.

 

***

 

                Folding her arms behind her head, Germina lamented for the second night in a row her lack of earplugs. The others seemed to have formed some kind of new-found camaraderie, and they had no idea how to be quiet.

                Corrianna’s bubbly laugh reached her ears, followed by Petram’s rare, rich chuckle. His chuckle morphed into a full laugh, and a pang of jealousy stabbed through her. What the hell did that idiot have that made everyone like him?

                Grumbling, she threw her arm over her eyes and heaved out a sigh. When they got home, she’d be putting in a request for solo assignments. She worked better alone. Let her idiot brother have the princess and her charming moron. They would only hold her back in the long run, anyway.

                For long, painful minutes, she listened to the threesome giggle at one another. She wasn’t sure what they found so funny, nor did she really care. She just wanted them to stop. She was close to getting up and telling them off for being so stupidly, needlessly noisy in hostile territory. Thankfully she didn’t need to, as their ruckus died down.

                Shortly after the blissful silence settled over the camp, her brother ducked into her tent. There was still a grin on his face, but one sharp glance from her wiped it off.

                “The hell d’you want?” she asked, pushing her hair back.

                Petram licked his lips, gaze darting away. “Ah, I apologize for interrupting, Minnie. I just…it’s time.”

                “Time for what?” she asked, expression flat.

                “My injection. It’s been a week.”

                Germina didn’t answer immediately, instead chose to let him sweat his awkward situation as she sat up on her cot. Licking her lips, she combed her fingers through her hair again. Finally, she looked up at him from under her brows. “Do it yourself.”

                A flash of fear brightened his eyes. “Minnie, you know I can’t.”

                “Your arm, your ass, or your thigh, right? That’s what dad told us once you were old enough to start doing it on your own. So, do it on your own.”

                “Yes, but you _know_ I can’t! You know how I am,” he muttered, cheeks hot.

                Germina scoffed. “Since you’re too much of a weakling to do it yourself, get your new boyfriend to give you a hand. Or better yet, a hand job. Oh, wait…”

                Face hot with humiliation, Petram clenched his fists and stared at his sister. “Germina, I am willing to put up with most things you do and say, as you are my sister. However, there are some things that simply mustn’t be joked about.” Swallowing thickly, he narrowed his eyes at her. “I would like an apology.”

                “Would you now? Well, I’d like an apology from you, too,” Germina grumbled, folding her arms on her knees.

                “What on Eos for?”

                “Abandoning me for that walking disaster?” She raised a brow at him, like he ought to know exactly what she meant.

                Sighing through his nose, Petram knelt before his sister. “I understand you’re angry at him, Minnie, but perhaps if you let yourself understand his side of things instead of immediately blaming him for things beyond his control—”

                “Don’t.”

                “Pardon?”

                “Take someone else’s side over mine. Again. You’re supposed to be the one person I can count on,” she told him.

                “You can count on me, but when you’re being this obstinate, I simply cannot agree with you. You ridicule me for things beyond my control, ostracize Clarus for things beyond _his_ control, and ignore Princess Corrianna for reasons I don’t understand. The only one of us who can pull rank is the princess, yet you go out of your way to disobey and talk back to her. I’m not sure what’s going on with you, but I’m concerned. Your bitterness scares me. It worries Corrianna and confuses Clarus.”

                Germina clenched her teeth and breathed out a steadying breath. “Don’t try to placate me, Pete. I have my reasons, and they won’t change.”

                “Maybe not, but at least pretend to get along for the sake of this assignment. You know dad expects a lot from us on this one.”

                “From me,” she muttered.

                “Excuse me?”

                “He expects a lot from _me_ , Pete. Not you. You’ve never had to do anything but _exist_ to impress both of them!” she shouted, feeling her anger bubbling beneath her tenuous calm. Her blunt fingernails bit into her palms and her biceps twitched.

                Nostrils flaring, Petram licked his lips. He took a slow breath. “I’m unsure what sort of self-important thoughts have consumed you, Germina, but it is childish and unbecoming. Perhaps you’d do better to remain behind tomorrow.”

                “Get out of my tent before I kick your ass.”

                “Germina—”

                “Now, Pete.”

                A soft sigh passed through Petram’s lips. Germina’s hands shook in their clenched fists, her brow sported a deep crease, and her shoulders rose and fell with deliberate breaths. The control she had on her temper had been slipping at a rapid pace since they learned of this assignment and it scared him to his core. He wanted to help her, but it seemed she was in no mood to help herself.

                Stepping out of his sister’s tent, Petram took a moment to calm his nerves. He didn’t want to worry the others. Though he had never been good at hiding extreme emotions from his face. A downfall in his line of work, to be sure.

                “Petram?”

                Corrianna was on her feet before he even closed the distance between them. She looked him up and down, brow furrowed, lips parted, tensions clear in her small frame. It was both adorable and disconcerting how closely her expression mirrored Prompto’s when she was worried.

                Petram offered them a shaky smile, hoping it would mask how flustered he was. “Excuse me.”

                “Pete, what’s wrong?” Corrianna frowned up at him, putting a hand on his arm.

                Petram relaxed as he met her gaze. If not for the overbearing nature of his sister, he probably would have attached himself to her long ago. Even when they were young, she was protective of those around her. He was always fond of her, even if he couldn’t outwardly show affection.

                Clarus hovered behind Corrianna, silent and concerned.

                “Just a minor disagreement with my sister. I’m quite alright. However, I could use Clarus’ assistance in a…personal matter. Typically, I have Germina help me, but she is being somewhat…disagreeable.” The corner of his mouth ticked up in a self-depreciating smirk. He adjusted his glasses and let out a shaky sigh.

                “Yeah, anything you need, dude.” He glanced at Corrianna, unsure.

                “You boys go do what you need to do. I’m going to go to bed. Um, if you want to talk, you know where to find me, Pete.” She squeezed his arm and smiled softly.

                “Thank you, Highness.”

                “Cori.”

                “Cori. Not sure I’ll ever get used to that,” he chuckled. Biding the woman goodnight, he turned back to Clarus. “I apologize for imposing on you.”

                Clarus waved a hand. “Don’t worry about it. Happy to help with…what exactly am I helping with?”

                Petram licked his lips, leading Clarus into his tent. “Ah, well…I’ve never told anyone about this before. I would very much appreciate discretion on this matter. That includes from Princess Corrianna.”

                Clarus’ brow twitched as he studied Petram’s profile.

                The man sighed, combing his fingers through his short, dark hair. “I understand this is a strange situation. It’s horribly uncomfortable for me, but sadly necessary. Please, Russ.”

                “Yeah, no, of course,” – Russ shook his head— “I trust you, man. I just, understandably, don’t trust Germina. ‘Course I won’t say anything.”

                The relief on his face was as clear as the waters of the Vannath Coast. He removed his glasses as he dropped onto his cot and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I assume you have relatively steady hands?” he asked, motioning for Russ to sit next to him as he opened his bag.

                “Uh…yes?” Russ answered slowly, eyes narrowing in confusion.

                Petram set a small case on the cot between them and opened it to reveal a vial and syringe. Settling his glasses back on his face, he plucked the items from the case.

                “Okay, whoa! Hold up!” Eyes wide, Russ’ gaze flicked from Petram to the syringe he was filling, and back. “The hell is that? Y’ain’t on drugs, are ya? ‘Cause I’m not real comfortable—”

                Petram chuckled, cutting Russ off. “Drugs, yes. _Illegal_ drugs, no.”

                “Uhhhokay?”

                “Due to certain circumstances, I’m required to have an injection once a week. I promise you, it is physician prescribed. “Petram smirked at the other man and held out the syringe. His hands were shaking.

                “Uhhhokay?” Russ repeated. “I’ve never, uh, given someone a needle before.”

                Petram swallowed thickly. Russ’ unease was not making this any easier. “And I’ve never had anyone do this besides doctors, my parents, and my sister. My anxieties are already quite high, so please don’t make this worse.”

                “Sorry. This is new to me. I’m probably not making things easy if you’re already kind of afraid of needles?” Russ took the syringe as Petram turned away and rolled up his sleeve.

                “You can tell?” Petram asked with wide eyes, glancing over as Russ lined the needle up with the scarring from past injections. He turned away as soon as he glanced at the pointed tip.

                “Pretty easy, Pete,” replied Russ, falling silent as he inserted the needle into the muscle of Petram’s bicep and slowly depressed the plunger. When it was empty, he pulled it out and put the small bandage Petram offered over the site.

                “Thank you.”

                “No problem, man.”

                The pair fell silent for a while as Russ watched Petram clean up. He had questions, but he wasn’t sure if he ought to ask. They had only just become friends, after all.

                Folding his arms on his knees, Petram glanced over at Russ. “I’ll ask one question, and you can ask one question. How does that sound?”

                Scratching the patch of hair on his chin, Russ shrugged. “Uh, yeah. Sure.”

                “How did you know of my fear of needles?”

                Russ grinned, leaning back on his hands. “’Cause they’re scary?” he laughed. “Your hands were shakin’ like mad as you filled’er up. And when ya looked at it, your skin went pastier than raw biscuit dough.” Chuckling, he smacked Petram between the shoulders.

                “And yet you aren’t teasing me because of it.”

                “Why the hell would I? Everyone’s afraid of somethin’, Pete. Even badass Glaives.” Looking down at the scuffed toes of his boots, Russ tapped his thumb against the blanket beneath him. “My turn now, right? I could be a super obvious dick ‘n ask ‘bout that medicine, or why ya need it, but I won’t get that nosy. Yet. So…I’m gonna ask why, for the love of Shiva, does yer sister hate me so damn much?”

                Petram breathed out a relieved chuckle. “Not the question I was expecting, but certainly a valid one. Sadly, not one I can answer with any certainty. Germina’s motives are never clear to anyone but her. I know she has some thoughts about you she likes to nurse, yet never voice, however, I believe much of her animosity is based in jealousy.” He shifted on the cot as Russ huffed out a sigh and fell onto his side. Mouth twisted to one side, arms crossed, he turned his gaze on Petram. His boyish features seemed even softer in the low light.

                “Why the heck would anyone be jealous’a me? I ain’t nothin’ special,” he told Petram.

                It was a struggle not to snicker at the adorable combination of Russ’ accent and his childish expression. “While I would love to tell you why you’re wrong, you probably wouldn’t care to hear such praise from your male cousin. It is also quite late, and we have much to do tomorrow.”

                Russ sighed dramatically, pouting. “Fine. But don’t think I’m letting’ y’all off the hook.” He pushed himself upright. Smacking Petram between the shoulders again, he got off the cot. “Don’t fret too much ‘bout yer sister, hey? Get a good sleep.”

                “Good night.” Petram watched the man go, and smiled to himself. He was happy he was finally able to cultivate a comfortable relationship with Clarus. The man was beginning to behave like he did with Corrianna, which Petram greatly appreciated. However, he wasn’t sure he was ready to finally face off against Germina and fight for his own wants and needs.


	10. Chapter 10

                This was a bad idea. He knew it would be when he suggested it to Corrianna before breakfast this morning. He _knew_ it, but he still asked anyway.

                _Let me work with Germina today._

                “The hell was I thinking?” Russ grumbled to himself as he followed the woman through what appeared to be a medical facility of some sort. Possibly a clinic and emergency room for the neighborhood.

                She stayed as far ahead of him as possible, refused to speak or give direction at all. She rifled quickly through rooms, yet didn’t really pay much attention to anything. She very clearly did not want to be here, and her disinterest in this assignment was becoming more apparent by the day.

                Russ didn’t understand how she was so highly praised at home when she behaved like this in the field.

                Together they entered a mid-sized room with wall-to-wall cabinets, housing all manner of items. Germina took a brief glance around, then turned to leave. Russ stood in the doorway, one brow raised.

                “Move.”

                “Doncha think we oughta, I dunno, look around a little?”

                “There’s nothing here, Aurum.”

                He knew it would piss her off to no end, but Russ made a display of looking around at the cabinets. Just from here, he could see plenty of unfamiliar items, perhaps useful, perhaps not. When he was done, he locked a pointed stare on the woman.

                “I think you might need to get your glasses checked, Germina. ‘Cause from where I’m standing, there’s plenty to sift through in here. Maybe _that’s_ why we’ve been breezing through our assigned buildings? You literally cannot see something in front of your face.” Crossing his arms so the woman could see the feathers of his tattoo circling his biceps just as clearly as he could see the eagle wing marking her left arm, Russ stared her down.

                Drawing herself up to her full six-foot height, Germina crossed her own massive arms. “Did you grow a pair overnight, Aurum? Why the hell are you disobeying orders?”

                Russ couldn’t help but snort. “What orders? You’ve been stomping around like a toddler for _days_ , ignoring me, calling people names, thinking you’re so much better than all of us…Even if you _could_ give me orders, I don’t respect you anywhere _close_ to enough to listen to you. You might be a Glaive, but I take orders from two people; _Commander_ Amicitia, and Princess Corrianna.”

                The woman’s face had taken on a rather tomato-y hue during Russ’ speech. She dropped her arms, clenched her teeth, chest heaving with each irritated breath. Russ knew he’d done nothing but piss her off even more than she already was, but he didn’t feel bad about it. In fact, he was plenty pleased with himself for standing his ground.

                “I don’t need respect from a two-bit, knock-off Amicitia. You don’t deserve the name _or_ the tattoo. You should have stayed in that filthy garage your mom calls a business,” she snarled, stepping close to him.

                “You really gotta work on your insult game, sweet pea. Pretty hard for me to be offended about the repeated name calling and weak blows against the official mechanic to the Crown. What else you got?” he asked, resisting the urge to rub the pendant hanging around his neck. He didn’t know if it was as lucky as his mom thought, but it did bring him comfort in some form.

                Done talking, Germina pulled back her arm and delivered a powerful straight punch to Russ’ face. Her fist caught his right cheek, knuckles splitting and bruising the thin skin. He staggered to the side, but his hands came up immediately to block her next blow. A few jabs hammered his ribs, but he turned, stepping away from the next assault. He refused to return the blows, choosing to defend and not stoop to her level. He wasn’t going to give her what she wanted.

                Germina twisted a fist in the front of Russ’ shirt and slammed him against the wall next to the door. She landed two more blows to his face, splitting his lips and bloodying his nose. She jammed her forearm against his neck, pushing his head up. She leaned in, pressing on his throat.

                Russ swallowed hard, letting the blood drip off his face and onto her arm. He tried to keep his expression neutral as he held her gaze.

                “I don’t know who the hell you think you are, but skating through life on someone else’ fame and favoritism makes you worse than the dust on the bottom of my boot. You have no place with her, you don’t belong at the Citadel, and one day you’re going to end up killing someone.”

                “Your perspective is severely skewed, Germina. I really don’t get why you—”

                “Because you’re a thief!”

                Russ’ eyes grew wide as he looked at her. So much pain and conflict played in her mismatched eyes, and he was lucky enough to wind up the target.

                Fighting to think of a direction to take this, Russ intently watched Germina’s face, trying to pick up on subtle shifts and doubt. Her features remained rock solid and angry. Then surprised. Then pained. In a split second, she yelped and stumbled back, gaze moving to the ground. Russ’ eyes followed.

                “You!” they both gasped.

                Standing between them, holding a sizable rock and innocently blinking its bizarre flat yellow eyes up at them, was the little lavender-colored, burlap-cloaked creature.

                Germina and Russ gawked at it, then each other. “You’ve seen it, too?” they demanded of one another.

                Having tossed the rock aside, the thing was already on its way out of the room. Silent in its strange waddling movement, it rounded the doorway and disappeared into the hall.

                “Wait!” called Russ, chasing after it. Boots slipping on the dirt-covered flooring, he skidded into the corridor. The little beastie was already moving around the next corner, its fishtail bobbing out of sight just as he spotted it. He sprinted behind it, Germina on his heels. Spat temporarily forgotten, they chased the monster.

                Hall blurring into hall, the facility, and its secrets were pushed to the back burner for now. They chased the thing upstairs and down, out onto the street, back inside, through the lobby, and right back to where they started. Only now they were in the doorway and the critter was trapped in the room.

                “I’m not crazy, am I?” panted Russ, refusing to take his eyes off the creature. “That’s a tonberry.”

                “That is a tonberry,” Germina confirmed. Now that she was face-to-face with her little tormentor, she didn’t feel so much like killing it any longer. She knew how deadly these little monsters were, and she really should summon a weapon, but something about this one was different from everything she knew. And it had nothing to do with its decision to smack a rock on her foot as opposed to stabbing her with the knife it should have been carrying.

                Russ tilted his head, holding the tonberry’s empty yet intelligent gaze. “I don’t think it wants to hurt us,” he said, slowly crouching down.

                “Tell that to my bruised foot,” Germina grumbled, narrowing her eyes. “What are you doing?”

                Hand extended, Russ remained silent as he knelt on the floor. He kept his expression neutral, palm up, breathing slowly as he watched the creature. It blinked at him, shuffling forward a half-step. Little mitten-shaped hands hidden in the wide sleeves of its hooded sack robe, it hugged its own body in uncertainty. Its rough leather slippers whispered on the floor, joining the swish of burlap as it took another step forward.

                Russ had no idea if it was smelling him or analyzing him at all, but it was getting closer. Once it shuffled close enough, it stared down at his hand for a moment before poking one tiny hand—paw?—out of its sleeve. Winding up, it delivered a powerful smack to the palm of his hand, made an unsettling noise, then in a blink, scrambled across his lap, behind him, and up his back to cling to the collar of his shift and hang out on his shoulder.

                Frozen, eyes wide, Russ flicked a glance up at Germina. The woman gawked, open-mouthed. The tonberry smacked his shoulder impatiently.

                Slowly rising to his feet, Russ swallowed hard and turned stiffly toward Germina. “I…have a tonberry on my shoulder.”

                “A friendly, mutant tonberry at that,” Germina replied, voice soft. She tilted her head, studying the weird little monster.

                “What do I do?”

                “I may have studied my father’s bestiary, but I’m no daemonologist, Aurum. Very little is known about tonberries, even now. I can promise you, this one is miles from what we _do_ know.” Every ounce of anger she was feeling earlier had been replaced with this new conundrum.  Petram would be tripping over himself to study the creature if he were here.

                Germina lifted her hands, reaching toward the tonberry. The tips of her fingers grazed across the side of its head, the skin smooth and cool. Its fishtail flopped against Russ’ back, but it didn’t seem to mind the touch. She expected a daemon to feel disgusting, like death and bad magic, but it really just felt like a frog, but dry.

                “So…um…we just gonna carry on with our new companion?” Russ reached up and rubbed a finger over the mottled lavender hand gripping his shirt. He was honestly afraid to act without instruction right now. There was a deadly daemon nuzzling his neck and a woman who detested him nearby. He was afraid to do much beyond breathe.

                “Unless you want me to try and pull it off?” suggested Germina, quirking a brow and smirking as she stroked its strange skin.

                “I’ll take my chances, thanks.”

                “Oh, so you do have a brain.”

                Rolling his eyes, Russ watched her interact with the tonberry. It seemed Germina wasn’t all acid and anger. Even if he did still have a battered and bloodied face. He felt kind of bad as disappointment whispered across her face when he stepped away to do his job. But not _too_ bad; his nose was still throbbing after all.

                Acutely aware of the seemingly docile daemon on his shoulder and the now disturbingly agreeable Germina, Russ got to work. He and Germina cleared each room of the clinic, making a list of interesting items and tech which could be useful for the science team to explore later. The tonberry remained still, sometimes its eyes would close, and it appeared to be sleeping, but otherwise it stayed in place as they cleared the building. Germina would glance up at it, mutter something while frowning, then go back to her list. Russ was beyond confused.

                “We should probably meet up with the others,” Russ said after they finished clearing the last of the rooms.

                “You think that’s a good idea with that still here?” Germina asked him, eyes on their companion.

                “Do I have a choice? It seems pretty content where it's at.” He looked at the tonberry, less afraid of it now. It seemed to be enjoying his body heat.

                Germina sighed. “You’re responsible for keeping an eye on that thing.”

                “It’s not a pet, Germ.”

                The woman turned a sharp glare on Russ. “You don’t get to call me that. Just because that little bugger interrupted, don’t think we’re suddenly golden now.”

                “Wouldn’t dream of it,” Russ sighed, stepping past Germina and heading for the door. Frowning to himself, he thought, not for the first time, how he got himself in this situation. All he wanted to do today was smooth things over with Germina a little bit. That blew up in his face spectacularly. Now he that problem, plus the new one on his shoulder. To be fair, the problem on his shoulder was only a potential problem, but if he knew anything about tonberries, it was that the thing could shank him at any moment. The thought was enough to keep him on edge.

                When they rounded the corner leading to the rendezvous point, a new problem presented itself.

                Jaw on the ground, Russ’ saucer-sized eyes darted from Petram to Corrianna to a third, disturbingly familiar face.

                “I have questions.”

                Corrianna eyed his bloody face. “You aren’t the only one.”


	11. Chapter 11

                Corrianna wrinkled up her nose as she shuffled through a stack of dusty, moldy paper. None of the words made sense, even after many attempts at learning the language of the Empire. Petram, genius that he was, had a much better handle on the words.

                “Finding anything useful and interesting?” she asked, turning away from the stack of pages. The light on her shoulder illuminated him where he worked on the opposite side of the small room.\

                “Sadly, no. I fear most of this is well below our comprehension level. If this were a university, or even a high school, as opposed to a grade school, there may be more here for us to learn.” Sighing, he turned toward her, squinting in the light. “Perhaps we would have been better off taking the more promising list instead of giving it to them.”

                Corrianna shrugged. “I think it will be a good test. Germ needs to learn how to work with people she doesn’t like. I feel bad doing that to Russ, but if she wants to be a Glaive, she needs to learn this lesson.”

                Crossing his arms, Petram leaned against a counter. “I feel she doesn’t exactly _want_ to be a Glaive.”

                “I’m glad I’m not the only one who thinks that, but why do _you_ think that?”

                Licking his lips, he stared down at the dusty floor. “As I’m sure you’re aware, Germina is extremely competitive. She always has been. And she always tries so hard to prove herself in the eyes of our parents. Completely unnecessary, but she doesn’t believe so. One day without warning, I was informed I would be leaving the Guard for the Glaive. I knew it was at her behest, but even now I’m unsure of her reasoning. However, with her current ranting about Russ stealing her position, I feel I may understand better.”

                “She chose to reform the Glaive to one-up Russ?” Corrianna asked, brow furrowed. “But I was of the understanding you both _refused_ the role of Shield, and that’s why it was given to Clarus.”

                Petram shrugged and adjusted his glasses. “I was never asked. I always just believed pops gave it to Russ because he didn’t want to choose between us.”

                Exhaling a long, slow breath, Corrianna took a moment to think. Licking her lips, she held Petram’s gaze for a moment. “So, what I’m getting is everything Germ does is fueled by jealousy and spite.”

                Petram scoffed. “Likely more than you know.”

                “And when Russ beheaded that behemoth, his show of strength sent her over the edge.” Corrianna shook her head.

                Tilting his head, Petram studied the princess. Her brow had a deep furrow and her eyes were unfocused as she stared past him. He wasn’t sure how much he ought to reveal here, to put her mind at ease. He cared greatly for the woman, but Germina was still his twin sister. And he didn’t want to betray anyone’s trust.

                “What do I do, Pete?”

                His brow twitched as his attention came back to her.

                “Y’know, I aced all of my courses in leadership and crisis response and stuff. One would think I should know what I’m doing, right? I’m supposed to be able to adapt to anything.” Shaking her head, she let out a derisive snort. “I didn’t expect my team to fall apart a week into my first mission. Now _I’m_ trying not to fall apart.” Itching her freckled nose, Corrianna grumbled low in her throat. “You guys are basically family to me, and I just wanted an easy relationship between us where we all just…flowed? I guess?”

                “Highness, if I may?”

                Corrianna lifted her head to see Petram standing before her, hands away from his body and palms out. He seemed to be inviting her in for a hug. Unusual for him, but she hoped she wasn’t misreading his signals because she _definitely_ needed one right now. She stepped toward him and he pulled her into a tight, yet slightly awkward embrace.

                “Don’t let my sister’s attitude make you think you’re less than you are. She would defy Bahamut himself.” Giving her a squeeze, he released her and stepped back, a soft smile on his lips. “Just between us, I would rather you take the throne than your brother. You are a fantastic leader.”

                Corrianna grinned at him. “Did your dads train you in damage control or something? You’re certainly a smooth talker,” she told him, crossing her arms. She hadn’t done anything to show her worth as a leader, but she was happy Petram thought highly of her despite that.

                “Just a skill I’ve picked up along the way,” he replied, heading to the door so they could continue their search of the building.

                Corrianna curled a stray chunk of hair behind her ear as she followed the man. “I think this so-called mission has given you a good chance to grow,” she commented.

                “Pardon?”

                “Like Germ, you’ve always been confident in your combat skills and that enormous brain of yours, but you always seemed so…cold. I don’t think that was _you_ though.”

                Petram remained silent as they walked down a long, empty corridor.

                “Remember how I used to sit and watch the Guard train? Dad likes to tell me it was a good way to learn and get a feel for the people who would be protecting me and Lucis. Anyway, I liked to watch you and Germ the most. Always off on your own. The others said it was because you guys thought you were too good for them.”

                Petram flinched.

                “Knowing Germ like I did—do?—I was inclined to believe them. But then I would see you looking at everyone else with a kind of, I dunno, resigned sadness? Like you wished you could train with everyone else but knew you couldn’t.”

                Chuckling, Petram combed his fingers through his hair and opened a heavy door. “I’m not sure I should be impressed by your observation skills, Princess, or disturbed.”

                “It’s true though, isn’t it?”

                To avoid answering immediately, Petram took a slow turn, taking in their new location. It seemed they found themselves in an impressive library. Or…it would have been impressive in the past. Without maintenance, snow removal, or covering during extreme weather, the glass dome in the ceiling long since shattered and collapsed. The center of the room now looked like something out of a story; a large, grassy mound covered with flowers, illuminated by a single shaft of sunlight.

                The sight was so cliché for a derelict library, it was almost painful.

                “You’re right,” Petram finally answered, moving into the room. He stepped over stray books, and his boots crunched on dirt and glass as he crossed to the librarian’s desk.

                Corrianna followed.

                “As children of heroes and royalty respectively, we were never meant to have normal lives. However, I never expected mine to be dictated by my sister of all people. I love her, but she can be…overbearing. In this last week, I’ve been given the opportunity to step out of her shadow.” Pausing, Petram sighed softly as he shuffled through a stack of thick books on a cart next to the desk. “Granted, Clarus has taken up the mantle of her ire.”

                Corrianna waved him off. “He doesn’t care. Much.”

                “While I know that’s not true, I am grateful he’s taken her attention for just a little while. I always wanted to have a better relationship with you and Clarus, but Germina…”

                “Not even Germ is spiteful enough to prevent you from having friends,” Corrianna replied in the woman’s defense.

                “Ah…I phrased that wrong. Or rather, incoherently. Of course she wouldn’t prevent my having friends. However, she is very strongly of the mind we only need one another. And she has been known to display rather…petty behavior when things don’t go her way. Particularly when I’m the one receiving attention rather than her.”

                Corrianna wrinkled up her nose and stared at the man. “Seems she holds herself to a different standard. That’s hardly fair. Why do you put up with it?”

                Arching an eyebrow, he blinked at her. “You know as well as I it’s easier just to do things her way.”

                “Maybe so, but that only worked for so long, Pete.”

                Petram pursed his lips, thoughtful. “Ah, we’re quite the pair, aren’t we?”

                “That we are,” Corrianna snickered, finally coming to help him search the desk. With Petram’s help, she found a handful of interesting science volumes still in decent shape. Tucking them into her bag, they made note of the location, marking it for further exploration, and continued to the next area.

                Five classrooms and a destroyed cafeteria later, the pair found their way out into an open courtyard. Plant life had reclaimed the space, completely overgrowing pathways and covering walls. Vines and creepers had even broken through window panes.

                The concrete frame of a water feature in one corner of the space was cracked and broken. Water continued to flow, creating a small stream seeping into the dirt.

                A rodent-like animal with long ears poked its head up out of the grass, gawked at them for a brief second, then bolted through the open door on the opposite side of the yard.

                Shortly after the animal disappeared, there was a noisy clatter, followed by a breathy squeak of surprise. Glancing at one another, Corrianna and Petram summoned their weapons. As quietly as the squishing grass would allow, they crossed the rest of the yard. Together, they moved through the open door and stopped dead, all thoughts of fighting gone from their minds.

                Slumped in a heap in the middle of the hall, next to a toppled stack of plastic chairs and rubbing his head, was a young man. He had long, messy blond hair, pasty white skin covered in a smattering of pale brown freckles, and not a stitch of clothing on his body.

                “Hello?” Corrianna took a half-step toward the person, leery.

                The young man’s head snapped up and he stared at them with wide eyes the color of summer periwinkles. Not taking those eyes off of them, he shot to his feet, taking a step back. Fear flashed briefly across his face.

                Quickly sending her weapons back into the Armiger, Corrianna gaped at the young man. She opened and closed her mouth, trying to find her voice.

                Petram came to her rescue, dismissing his own weapon and focusing on their visitor. “Hello, there,” he greeted, smiling at the young man.

                His gaze flicked from Corrianna to Petram, his shoulders relaxing ever-so-slightly.

                “Can you speak?” Petram now asked, then repeated the question in Imperial.  There was no recognition on the man’s face. A face that bore a striking resemblance to that of Prince Prompto, minus a few decades. In fact, it was _identical_ to the photos he had seen of a twenty-year-old Prompto Argentum. Eerie and intriguing in equal measure.

                Corrianna, understandably, stared in shock.

                Sighing, Petram slipped out of his jacket and held it out to the man.

                The blond’s eyes darted from Petram’s face to the jacket, and back.

                “Here. You can wear this. Perhaps if you come back to camp with us, we can find you some proper clothes,” Petram explained, though he doubted the young man had any clue what he was saying. As he held out his arm, he shifted a glance toward Corrianna. “Are you alright, Highness?”

                “Uh, no?”

                “Understandable, but you need to pull yourself together. I need you with me right now.”

                “R-right. Um…” Inhaling deeply, she closed her eyes and gave herself a mental shake. “Um…hello, there,” she greeted, forcing herself to smile. She relaxed and tried not to connect this person to her parent. That seemed like an impossible task.

                The blond’s face lit up when he heard Corrianna speak. All fear and tension disappeared, replaced with excitable glee. He quickly closed the distance between himself and Corrianna, bending down to look her directly in the eye. Grinning the same sunshiny grin often seen on Prompto’s face, he glanced up at Petram and touched his nose before pointing at Corrianna’s.

                “I think he’s excited about your matching freckles,” Petram chuckled, watching fondly as the young man reached out to touch her cheeks.

                “I can see that!” she giggled as his calloused fingers brushed her skin.

                The man made a sound in his throat that could have been interested, excited, or happy. Or all of the above. He clapped his hands together before turning back to Petram and standing up straight. He pointed at the jacket and then held out his hand, making another sound.

                “You want this now?” Petram asked, holding the item up again.

                “Pretty sure he doesn’t know what you’re saying,” Corrianna pointed out.

                “Perhaps not, but he seems to know gestures, expressions, and tone.” Petram gestured to the blond with the jacket again and raised his brows.

                The blond took the jacket and slipped it on. He stood a handful of inches shorter than Petram, so the jacket was large on him. It fell to mid-thigh and would cover his nudity well enough once the zipper was fastened. The sleeves covered his hands almost entirely.

                “Oh my Gods. This reminds me of a picture dad has of Mira wearing the coat from his fatigues! So cute!”

                “Let’s just get him covered up,” Petram muttered back.

                The blond giggled, holding out his hands and wiggling his fingers, which were barely visible past the cuffs. Pushing the sleeves up to his elbows, he looked at Corrianna and Petram, then down at himself. He twisted his mouth to the side, studying the metal zipper for a moment.

                “Do you need help?” Petram asked, taking a step forward.

                In answer, the blond zipped the jacket and smiled up at Petram.

                “Oh…okay.”

                Corrianna grinned. “He’s smart!”

                He grinned too, picking p on the amusement in her voice.

                Petram sighed, putting a hand over his mouth as he watched Corrianna and the blond interact. While he appeared quite intelligent, he behaved like someone who had never seen another human being before. And if he had been living alone in this city, that may very well be the case. Though that opened an entirely unfathomable line of questions.

                The blond held a section of his long, tangled hair up next to Corrianna’s black braid and pouted for a moment. He then patted the plait and gestured to his own hair.

                “You want me to braid yours?” Corrianna asked, repeating his gesture.

                He needed eagerly and grunted.

                As Corrianna tried to explain _later_ to him, Petram continued to hide his mouth behind his hand. He didn’t need the woman teasing him for the unrestrained grin on his face. The sheer enthusiasm in every movement the blond made, made him inexplicably happy.

                By the time he was able to get his expression back under control, the blond was trying to tell Corrianna he was hungry. He touched his belly, then his lips, waiting expectantly. She didn’t quite seem to get it, but Petram chalked it up to distracted thoughts.

                Pulling a chocolate protein bar from his pocket, Petram unwrapped it and offered it to the blond. He was met with a blank stare. Chuckling, he broke off a piece and ate it before offering it again. This time the blond accepted it readily.

                “We should head to the rendezvous. We’ll take him back to camp with us and get him some proper food and clothes. A bath, perhaps. And maybe try introducing ourselves properly, see if he has a name or can speak at all, though I doubt it.”

                “And put in an emergency call to my dads,” Corrianna added.

                “Of course. They may have some useful insight. If not, we’ll have to call in more teams for an even more extensive search of the city and surrounding facilities.”

                Nodding, Corrianna watched the blond marvel at the protein bar. “If daddy was even _half_ this cute when he was younger, dad never stood a chance.”

                As the blond finished eating and handed over his garbage with a smile, Petram couldn’t help but agree with Corrianna.


	12. Chapter 12

                To say things had gotten weird would be the understatement of the year. Perhaps even the decade. No one knew where to start asking questions, and their new friends sensed the unease floating around them. Well… _one_ of their new friends did. The blond hugged the tonberry tightly, eyes flicking nervously around. The tonberry, after launching away from Russ at the sight of the blond, snuggled happily against its friend.

                “Well, we can’t stand here gawking at each other all day, so I’ll start; why the hell is your face all bloody?” Corrianna asked, raising an eyebrow at Russ.

                “Took a nose dive chasing that tonberry,” he answered without hesitation.

                “Is that so?” Corrianna asked, eyeing Germina.

                The woman raised her hands. “Hey, the idiot may be good with his hands, but his feet have disagreements. He’s about as coordinated as an oversized puppy.”

                Corrianna glanced at Petram and exchanged a dubious expression.

                “My bloody nose isn’t important. Who the hell is this?” Russ blinked at the blond, who blinked back.

                “Are you telling me you don’t recognize Prince Prompto, Clarus?” Petram teased, the corner of his mouth tipped in a smirk.

                Wide eyes darted toward Corrianna.

                “Now is not the time for your dry humor, Pete,” Corrianna scolded. “We don’t know _who_ he is, Russ. We just ran into him at the school.”

                “Well, there’s no mistaking he looks like Little Prince Chocobo,” said Germina, taking a step toward the blond. The young man shrunk away from her, putting himself between Corrianna and Petram. He squeezed the tonberry and it let out a strange squeak.

                “Germina, show some respect to His Highness,” Petram stated, bringing a protective hand to rest in the middle of the blond’s back.

                “What? It’s not like he’s here. That’s not him, and his hair looks like, or _used_ to look like a bird’s ass,” Germina replied.

                “Hey! That’s my daddy you’re badmouthing, Germ,” Corrianna grumbled, scowling at the other woman.

                Sighing, Germina rolled her eyes. “Calm your tits, Sweetpea, I wasn’t badmouthing anyone. Have you _seen_ the man’s hair?”

                “Ladies, you’re frightening our new friend,” Petram told them, drawing their attention. The blond’s wide periwinkle eyes darted back and forth between the girls.

                Putting his most charming smile in place, Russ crossed the space between himself and the blond. The young man glanced at him, unsure. Likely due to the dried blood on his face. It probably didn’t help he was almost an entire head taller as well. He peeked up at Petram, who gave him an encouraging nod and smile.

                Russ put his hand to his chest. “Russ,” he introduced, extending his hand toward the blond. “You are?”

                The blond stared at him, confused. A chunk of his tangled hair fell across his face.

                “I’m certain he doesn’t know how to speak. And likely only understands tone and expression,” said Petram.

                “Well, then what’re we gonna call him?” Russ asked as the tonberry squirmed out of the blond’s arms and returned to its perch on Russ’ shoulder.

                “Aurarum.”

                Russ raised a brow at the quick reply as the women finally turned their attention back to the situation at hand.

                Lips quivering in a repressed smirk, Corrianna locked eyes with Petram. “Really?”

                Gaze darting away as his cheeks colored, Petram cleared his throat. “Forgive my presumptuousness, Princess.”

                Waving a dismissive hand, Corrianna shook her head. “Don’t worry about it, Pete. I like it. It’s a nice homage to the Argentum name, and we can just call him Aura for short.”

                Petram’s cheeks flushed darker.

                “Subtle, Pete,” Germina mumbled.

                “Aura, eh? I like it.” Russ beamed at the blond. He touched the center of his chest and repeated the name. After a brief stare, Aura’s face lit up and he tackled Russ in a tight hug, grinning ear to ear.

                “So, who the hell is he, and where did he come from?” Germina asked, watching Aura cling to Russ with bored disdain. “I thought the city was abandoned.

                “Your guess is as good as mine. We were under the impression only daemons lived here. Guess we were wrong,” replied Corrianna.

                “So, what do we do, Cori?” Russ asked, looking over Aura’s head to the woman.

                Shifting her weight, Corrianna licked her lips and sighed. “Take him back to camp so I can consult with my parents. We could waste time trying to find where he came from, but in this case, I think we’re in over our heads. Well…I am, in any case. This is weird and unnerving, to say the least.”

                “He conveyed that he was hungry as well. The least we can do is get him some food,” Petram added.

                “Maybe a bath, too,” Russ suggested, nose wrinkling up.

                “You could use one of those, too,” teased Petram.

                Russ rolled his eyes before looking down at the top of Aurarum’s head. “Uh, wanna do something about him?” he asked, casting a pleading glance at Petram.

                “Why? He seems quite content where he is,” the man replied with a quirked brow.

                Russ dropped his arms in defeat. Aurarum certain did seem happy where he was, clinging to Russ’ waist, face buried against his chest.

                “Let’s just get back to camp. I’m starving,” Germina grumbled, rolling her eyes as she pushed past Russ.

                “Is he okay?” Corrianna asked, ignoring Germina. She furrowed her brow, studying Aurarum.

                “I think so?” Russ looked down at the blond and almost laughed. “I think he fell asleep.”

                “What? Seriously?”

                Petram chuckled softly, fondly. “While I’m not positive, I believe we may be the first people he’s ever encountered. The rhythm of Russ’ heart and the heat of his body clearly gave him enough sense of safety he was able to relax his guard and doze off.”

                “An exaggerated pour curved Corrianna’s lips. “Jealous.”

                Russ’ face flushed at the woman’s comment.

                Germina groaned noisily. “Good Gods.”

                The tonberry, still perched on Russ’ shoulder, lifted one of its little hands and whacked the top of his head.

                Flinching, Russ turned to look at the little beast. Somehow, its eerily blank expression seemed rather displeased. Unsure what brought on the attitude shift, he was a little more leery about the deadly daemon. It huffed in his ear, hopped to the ground, and scurried into the shadows of a nearby building.

                “Uh…should we go after it?” Corrianna asked.

                “No, it’ll be able to find us if it wants. Let’s just go.”

                Agreeing with Germina for the first time possibly ever, Russ shifted Aurarum and scooped him off the ground. The blond stayed asleep, curling against Russ’ chest.

                “Are you okay, Cori?” Russ asked after they walked a short distance in silence. He kept his voice low in hopes it wouldn’t carry to the twins.

                The woman scoffed and shook her head. “No. Not even close, actually. I mean, would you be okay if we found doppelgangers of your mom?”

                “No, of course not,” he sighed.

                “Exactly. So why do you think I would be?”

                Licking his lips, Russ slowed, falling behind and sighing again. “Hey, Pete! C’mere a sec.”

                Glancing back over his shoulder, Petram locked eyes with Clarus. Without question, he backtracked to where the man stood. “How can I help?” he asked.

                “Can you take him? I need ta talk ta Cori fer a sec,” Russ whispered, wincing at his accent.

                “Of course. We’ll meet you at camp.” With a gentle smile, Petram rook Aurarum from the other man. Careful not to wake the blond, he readjusted his grip and turned back the way he came.

                Taking a steadying breath and scrubbing his hands through his hair, Russ called out to Corrianna. Reluctant, she stopped and waited for him to catch up. When he approached, he put a hand on her arm, a gesture he used so many times in the past to let her know he was there.

                “Talk to me, Cor.”

                Blinking to clear the wetness already welling up in her eyes, Corrianna looked away, brow furrowed. “What’s there to say?”

                “Uh…I think lots, considering…”

                “Well, what about you? I don’t like it when you lie to me.”

                Guilt stabbed Russ and he pursed his lips. “I…just didn’t want to cause more problems.”

                “Then tell me what actually happened.” Reaching up, she brushed her thumb over the crust of blood on his top lip.

                Sighing, he glanced ahead at Germina and Petram. “She decided to show me just how much she disagrees with my presence.”

                “And you didn’t fight back,” Corrianna sighed.

                “Course I didn’t. Figured it was easier just to let her get her frustration out,” he replied. It was a half-truth. “But that’s not important right now. Put your public smile away and tell me what you really think about Aura’s arrival.”

                “It’s just weird,” she muttered after a brief hesitation.

                “Cori. Look, I get you wanna be the self-sufficient leader and shit, but it won’t do you any good. Talk to me. It’ll help you go to your dads with a level head.”

                The woman huffed, looking away as she clenched her fists. She thought for a moment, gaze locked on the crack in the aged concrete beneath their feet. Eventually she realized she had no argument. Raising her eyes, she looked at Russ and let out a heavy sigh.

                “It’s weird, and wrong, and impossible, and amazing…and scary! What does it mean? Why is he here? Why is he so young when daddy isn’t? Where did he come from? I have so many questions, Russ. I’m afraid dad will go into Protection Mode and shut everything down—you know how he can get with daddy. This is all so far beyond me, and I have no idea what to do. Or even if I want to hear the answers to some of those questions. This is only proving I’m not cut out to be a leader to anyone. Not like Mira, who is so good at it…” Tears of frustration welled in her eyes, making them look more blue than purple.

                Russ watched her, unsure of his next move. He used to know just what to do or say to comfort her, but too many things shifted between them since they arrived in Gralea. So, he did the only thing that came to mind—he yanked her into a hug.

                Corrianna wrapped her arms around his waist and hid her face against his chest. His warmth and strength cloaked her much smaller frame and she relished in the comfort. She missed this innocent embrace, this friendly show of affection and care, but now it caused knots of guilt in her belly.

                As Russ held her, she somehow managed to keep herself together and didn’t start bawling, though she very much wanted to. She was reminded of all the times growing up she found herself turning to him for reassurance and comfort. Not that she didn’t get an overabundance from her parents, but it was different with Russ. It wasn’t parental, or even romantic, it was just…Clarus.

                Corrianna’s grip eased and Russ could tell how much tension dissipated from her body just from this small gesture.

                “Feeling better, Corgi?”

                The woman sighed and grumbled in her throat. “Why do you call me that?”

                Russ’ face turned bright red as she leaned back to look up at him.

                “Well?”

                “Uh…well, I thought it was a good mash of Corrianna Regina, but then I heard people saying it was a good nickname for you ‘cuz you’re small and cute,” he mumbled.

                Cori didn’t know how to respond. Part of her was insulted, but the louder part of her was thrilled.

                “So, uh, we-we-we should p-probably catch up with the others. I don’t, um, don’t know if I trust the twins alone with Aura,” Russ stammered, his voice cracking. He cleared his throat with a cough. “I mean, Germina is unpredictable at best, but even Petram had a weird look on his face.”

                “Noticed that, did you?”

                “Hard not to. He got all…soft.”

                Corrianna chuckled at the descriptor. “He thinks he’s subtle about it, but Pete’s had a crush on daddy for forever.”

                Russ’ eyebrows shot upward. “Serious?”

                “Yeah. I think it’s cute. Y’know, like when a little kid has that innocent first crush on an adult they’re close to.”

                “Okay, but with Aurarum, he’s got a version of Prince Prompto much closer to his age. Don’t you think that’s weird?”

                Gently smacking Russ’ arm, Corrianna wrinkled up her nose. “Give him some credit. Pete’s not that gross. He wouldn’t do anything. Besides, I don’t have time to worry about that, given everything else on my plate. Let’s just go back to camp so I can see what my dads say and go from there.”

                Russ gave Corrianna a nod and reached out to squeeze her arm again. Only this time she flinched out of reach. Frowning to himself, he fell into step beside her as they headed in the direction of camp. He wished he knew what he was doing wrong all of a sudden. And why such a small thing made his chest ache.


	13. Chapter 13

                Prompto was no stranger to bad dreams. Neither was his husband. Thankfully in their aging years, their nightmares weren’t as specific, nor memorable, as they used to be. However, that didn’t stop him from waking up in a cold sweat, scared of shadows, and shaking like a leaf. His back screamed from the sudden jolt upright, making him wince when he relaxed.

                Beside him, Noctis mumbled in his sleep and tightened the arm draped across Prompto’s hips.

                Pushing his more white-than-blond hair off his slick forehead, Prompto heaved out a sigh.  Once again, the only details left behind were cold and loneliness. Two things he never wanted to deal with ever again in the remainder of his life.

                Breathing out a steadying sigh, he eased himself back to the mattress. His stiff muscles protested but relaxed once he was settled again.

                “S’wrong?”

                Prompto started at the husky voice in his ear. He hadn’t noticed Noctis was awake. Swallowing hard and hoping the other man couldn’t hear the thumping of his heart, Prompto rolled over to face his husband. He smiled in the dark.

                “Just a dream,” he whispered back. “Nothin’ to worry about.”

                Noctis grumbled in his throat and shuffled closer to Prompto. He put his forehead to the man’s freckled shoulder. “Prom…”

                Biting his lip to stifle a chuckle at Noctis’ tone, Prompto shook his head softly. That tone was reserved for a _we’ve_ _been together how long?_ speech.

                “We’ve been seeing each other for a while now, right?” Noctis asked in his gruff, sleepy voice.

                Prompto wasn’t able to contain the giggle this time. A sound unbecoming a man his age.

                “Is my worry funny?”

                Even though the room was dark, Prompto could clearly see the eyebrow arched at him. “It’s not the worry, it’s the way you ask if I’m okay when I’m not being straightforward. Y’know, I never thought I’d call an old man cute, but here we are.”

                “You tell me I’m cute at least once a day,” Noctis replied.

                “Touché.”

                “But I’m not old.”

                “Older than me.” Prompto could hear Noctis’ eyes roll at the retort. “But seriously, it was just some nightmare. Already long gone.”

                Stretching against Prompto, Noctis kissed the man’s neck, the prickle of his beard tickling the sensitive skin. “Good. Now go back to sleep, Sunshine. For once we’ve got a free morning, and I wanna sleep through it.”

                “As you wish, Your Majesty.”

                Noctis huffed softly against Prompto but said no more as he settled in once again. Prompto wasn’t about to argue with the man; after all, he couldn’t even recall the last time they had the chance to enjoy a leisurely morning. With a soft sigh, he closed his eyes and relaxed.

                Drifting between sleep and wakefulness, Prompto was once again startled fully awake by an alert on the computer. The screen lit up, flooding the room with a sickly glow as the video call begged for attention.

                “Noct, Cor is calling again,” Prompto sighed, sitting up once again. He rubbed his eyes as he untangled himself from the man’s arms. Pulling on his robe, he plodded across the soft carpet to the desk on the other side of the room. He flicked on the lamp, making Noctis grumble in protest as he tried to escape the bedding.

                “Hey, Honeybun,” Prompto greeted, blinking at the bright screen.

                The girl on the monitor bit her lip, glancing away as she fiddled with her hair. “ _Hey, daddy. Sorry to wake you again._ ”

                Prompto waved a dismissive hand and stifled a yawn as Noctis joined him at the computer. When the man’s eyes finally opened, he took one look at their daughter and Prompto could feel every muscle in his body stiffen.

                “What’s wrong?” he asked, alert and worried.

                The young woman frowned. “ _Um…We ran into an…unexpected turn of events today, and I’m at a complete loss._ ”

                “Corrianna, just spit it out, please?”

                She winced, flashing a bashful smile. “ _Right. Sorry. Um…We made a new friend today. Imagine my surprise, meeting someone in an abandoned city. A someone who has no fathomable reason to exist. Yet there he was; skinny, pale, freckled, hair as yellow as the sun…_ ”

                Prompto’s stomach dropped, twisted, then jumped into his throat. “Show me,” he squeaked.

                “Prom? What is it? What the hell is she talking about?” Noctis growled, grabbing his husband’s shoulder.

                “ _I texted you a picture,_ ” Cori mumbled.

                As soon as his phone buzzed on the nightstand, Prompto was out of his chair so fast, he almost knocked Noctis on his ass. The man swore and called out to him, but he was focused on the fear and anxiety bubbling within him. He swiped his phone off the nightstand and unlocked the screen.  Part of him knew what he was about to find, though it shouldn’t be possible. Not after what happened all those years ago.

                “Lemme see,” Noctis whispered, putting a hand on his shoulder.

                Without opening his daughter’s message, Prompto handed the phone over to Noctis. He watched the man carefully as he loaded the image and studied the face staring back at him. Brief surprise melted into anger, darkening Noctis’ already deep blue eyes. He tossed the phone onto the bed and stopped back to the computer.

                “What the hell is that, Corrianna? Do you think that’s funny? Because I’m not laughing.”

                “ _What? Why would I joke about this? I have better things to do with my time than put together a cruel practical joke!_ ” Hurt painted the girl’s face as she stared through the screen at her dad.

                “She wouldn’t even know to joke about this, Noct. Leave her alone,” Prompto muttered, sinking to the bed as he picked his phone up and looked at the screen.

                Noctis lowered himself into the chair before the computer, anger gone as soon as it came.

                “ _What do you mean? What’s going on?_ ”

                Corrianna’s voice faded to a buzz as Prompto blinked down at the youthful, confused face of an impossibly living Vertael Besithia clone. Another _him_. A brother. Living, no daemonized, not clad in armor, mindless, forced to serve the Empire as a weapon. This one was new, fresh-faced, a _human being_.

                But why was he there? Why did he exist? Prompto and Aranea destroyed the Magitek Production Facility decades ago. They put all those clones out of their misery, saved them from a horrible fate. And he suffered for it, learned too much, killed who he thought he was, waited days thinking he would never see his friends again…He thought he was past those horrors. But now it was back, peering up at him with wide eyes, and tangled blond hair.

                He could smell the daemon rot.

                He could taste the acrid smoke.

                He could hear the screams of the massive Magitek serpent as it pursued them.

                He could feel every torturous second that followed his capture.

                He was alone. Afraid. Hurt. The only one left. The only one—

                “Prom!”

                Phone slipping from his fingers, Prompto looked up with a start. His poor heart couldn’t handle much more of that tonight.

                “ _Is daddy okay?_ ”

                Noctis glanced from his husband to his daughter, brow furrowed deeply. “Hon?”

                “I…sorry. Just, um—” Prompto cleared his throat and flashed a half-smile “—just a bad memory. Didn’t mean to scare anyone. I’m okay, Cor.” Scrubbing a hand through his thinning hair, Prompto took a deep breath. “Is it just him?”

                “ _Yeah…why? Should I expect more? What the hell is going on?_ ” Corrianna scowled at her parents. “ _Please…I need to know what I’m dealing with here._ ”

                “Cori don’t push. Let him take this in,” Noctis scolded.

                Slowly getting back to his feet, Prompto left his phone on the floor and joined Noctis at the computer once again. He licked his lips, closed his eyes, and lowered his head. “Tell me about him.”

                “ _W-why? Should I be worried?_ ”

                Prompto shook his head and Noctis took his hand, squeezing it gently. “Not necessarily. What’s he like?”

                Brow twitching, Corrianna looked down at her lap. “ _Well, I don’t know for sure…we’ve only known him a couple hours. He doesn’t speak, but we’ve been able to communicate through rudimentary gestures. He’s trusting yet seems to be able to read emotion well—he’s wary of Germina. Curious…Really likes us, I think. He’s lonely. Petram thinks we’re the first people he’s ever seen,_ ” she explained, eyes flicking toward the entrance of her tent.

                “Does he seem like a threat?” Noctis asked.

                “ _Not at all. The poor guy fell asleep listening to Russ’ heart for two minutes._ ”

                Noctis and Prompto arched their eyebrows at Corrianna.

                “ _He was so happy we gave him a name, he went in for a hug. He didn’t want to let go and fell asleep standing up. Petram carried him back here,_ ” she clarified.

                “Name?” Noctis questioned. “Like a pet?”

                “ _Well, we couldn’t just call him_ hey you _, now could we?_ ” Corrianna huffed, crossing her arms. She shook her head, flinging her braid over her shoulder.

                “What are you calling him?” Prompto asked, nudging Noctis.

                “ _Aurarum. Aura for short._ ”

                Noctis wrinkled up his nose, scuffing a hand over his beard. “Who came up with that gem?”

                “ _Petram._ ”

                Prompto chuckled softly before sobering again. “Are you certain he’s not dangerous?”

                Corrianna closed her eyes, sighing. “ _Daddy, he was excited we have matching freckles. He wants me to braid his hair. He’s no more dangerous than a little kid. Now can you_ please _tell me what’s happening?_ ”

                “It’s…complicated, Honeybun.”

                “ _Seriously, daddy? I_ know _it’s complicated! I’ve got a long-haired doppelganger of a twenty-year-old Prompto Argentum waiting for me out there!_ ” shouted Corrianna, smacking her fists against her knees. “ _What aren’t you telling me?_ ”

                “Corrianna!” Noctis barked, immediately wincing at his raised voice. He hated yelling at the kids, but sometimes there was no other way to cut them off and reground them. “Corrianna,” he repeated, softly. “You don’t realize the old wounds you’ve torn open here. We know it’s not your fault, and we know you want answers. So do we. However, I think we may have to—”

                “Noct, it’s okay,” Prompto interrupted. “I know it’s hard, but we can’t keep her in the dark.”

                “Prompto, I don’t want to see you relive that again,” Noctis mumbled.

                “You weren’t there to see me relive it the first time. Or any other time! It happened to _me_ , and I want to tell her.”

                “Just think about what you’re saying—”

                “Noct, I just want to give her an explanation!”

                “ _Guys! Don’t fight! Please!_ ”

                The men turned their attention back on their daughter. Embarrassed, they lowered their eyes, unable to hold her sharp gaze.

                “ _If you’re gonna get into a blow-up over this, I don’t need to know that bad. Just tell me where to go from here._ ”

                Noctis heaved a sigh, looking up to meet Prompto’s eye. They stared at one another, soft periwinkle and midnight blue.

                “We’ll call you back in a few hours, okay Sweetheart? Your dad and I need to discuss this,” said Noctis, shoulders drooping.

                “ _Uh…sure. But what do we do with Aura in the meantime?_ ”

                “Take care of him,” stated Prompto.

                Corrianna nodded. “ _We can do that. Please, don’t fight because of this. I love you guys._ ”

                “Love you, too, Honeybun.”

                Ending the call, Noctis turned and gathered Prompto in his arms. “I’m sorry.”

                Prompto swiped his hands over his eyes. “So much for that free morning, hey?”

                “You’re more important than all the sleep in the world.”


	14. Chapter 14

                Corrianna took long moments to compose herself after the video call ended. She had no answers. She actually had more questions, and a bone-deep fear of asking those questions. The long-off horror in her daddy’s normally happy face turned her stomach.

                Going out and facing the others was the last thing she wished to do now. Waiting for her parents to call back felt like the better option, though it wasn’t an option at all. She had a team to lead. A team with the same questions she had.

                Steadying herself, she forced herself to leave the safe solidarity of her tent. Russ was the only one around to greet her. On one hand, she was glad for that because he could read her expression and not probe for information. On the other hand, she couldn’t trust herself around him. She relied on him too much, and she was scared she might say or do something stupid if she wasn’t careful. She was afraid secrets would get out that she wasn’t ready to reveal to him.

                She pulled an empty chair close to him and flopped down. “Where’d everyone go?”

                “Germina went to expel some rage on the local fauna and Petram took Aura over to the shower.”

                “He talked him into a shower? How?”

                Russ chuckled. “He hadn’t gotten that far.”

                “Well, good luck to him.”

                Leaning over, Russ draped his arm around Corrianna’s shoulders and tugged her as close as the chairs would allow. He didn’t speak or prod, just offered the comfort of his presence. She was tense against him, but not uncomfortable. She acted differently when she was uncomfortable. Right now, she was just upset and scattered. He wanted to help, but it seemed like the more he tried, the more she pulled away.

                “We’ve stepped in some deep shit,” Corrianna sighed, finally relaxing against him.

                “I admit I’m curious about where he came from, but it doesn’t seem too bad,” Russ offered, running his fingers across the lumps of her braid.

                Corrianna shook her head. “I sent daddy a snapshot of Aura, and it was like the whole world stopped. They were yelling at me and each other. It was scary, Russ.”

                “Did they tell you why?”

                “No. They had to talk about it first and said they’d call me back. I’m so curious, yet so terrified to know what’s going on.” She lifted her hand and grabbed Russ’ fingers. Her own fingers were so small in comparison.

                “Well, no matter what the problem is, you know I’m not going anywhere. Despite some of the shitty things I’ve said recently.”

                “I wish I could believe that,” she mumbled.

                “Huh? Why wouldn’t you?”

                Corrianna’s eyes snapped up to meet Russ’. Her cheeks colored, and she turned away, still holding onto his hand. “I didn’t mean to say that out loud.”

                “Cori, please don’t avoid this. Why don’t you think I’d stick by you?” His voice stayed soft, full of concern.

                “Do we have to do this now?”

                “Well…no, but we’re alone and I don’t want any more bad blood or misunderstandings floating around. You’ve been so hot and cold with me since we got here, and I want to know why. I’m not saying I’m innocent here, but…” Turning his hand, he twined his fingers with hers and fought the urge to pull her into a bone-crushing hug.

                Corrianna bit her lip and frowned. “Clarus, I’m…fighting a lot of battles in my head right now. I don’t want this to be another one, okay? It’s something I can’t hide from forever, but if I told you some of the stuff I think about, you’d head for the most remote cave on Ravatogh. I _know_ this is making stuff weird between us, but I can’t help that right now. Just…I need you to understand it’s not your fault, okay? This is all on me.”

                Licking his lips, Russ let out a heavy sigh. “Cori, you can’t get rid of me with that _it’s not you, it’s me_ break up speech. I’m in this for the long haul. But I won’t pester you about it anymore. I’ll wait until you want to come to me.” He gave her a bright, reassuring smile before tugging her over to kiss the top of her head. “Let’s just deal with Prompto-lite for now, okay?”

                Corrianna could only remember one other time in her life when her cheeks burned this hot, and that was when Germina hit on her for the first time. Okay, maybe one time after that as well, but she refused to think about that particular memory right now.

                “So, when did they say they’d call back?” Russ now asked, staring across the camp.

                “In a few hours. I’m under orders to take care of Aura till then.”

                A different sort of grin washed over Russ’ features. “I think we should appoint that job to Pete. He’d be over the moon.”

                “Look what’s coming from the shower and say that again,” Corrianna whispered, nudging Russ.

                Lifting his head, Russ’ gaze traveled in the direction Cori indicated. He snorted, hand flying to his mouth to prevent any more sound escaping. “Holy shit.”

                Petram steered Aura back toward the main camp, cheeks flushed, hair flat, clothes wet. Aura’s long, damp hair curled over his shoulders and back, and the layer of dirt on his skin was gone, making him appear paler than he seemed earlier. The pair made quite the sight.

                “How did that work for you?” chuckled Russ as Aura flopped down into one of the other chairs.

                Petram sighed, pushing a lock of still-wet hair off his forehead. “I’m glad he gets so enthusiastic about things which are so simple to us.”

                Corrianna grinned. “Kinda want a play-by-play.”

                “Perhaps later. Right now, I need to change my clothes and find some for him, as I’m closest to his size.”

                “Hey, toss me that towel,” Russ said as Petram turned away. In one smooth movement, the man pulled the towel from his shoulder, turned, tossed it at Russ, and continued toward his tent. Russ caught the damp fabric with one hand. Giving Corrianna’s shoulder a final squeeze, he got to his feet.

                Aura smiled at Russ, stretching out his legs and spreading his toes. He put a hand on his chest. “Ah!”

                Russ beamed, kneeling before the blond. “Aura! That’s right!” He draped the towel on the man’s head and the blond giggled.

                “Ah! Ah!”

                Corrianna tilted her head, watching the exchange. She still wasn’t entirely sure what to make of this young man. There was an intelligence in him—she could feel it, could see it in his eyes. Yet, his behavior was that of a toddler. She had a sneaking suspicion he was bred, not born. He held knowledge inside, yet no one raised him, nurtured that knowledge, tailored him for whatever existence he was created for. She felt bad for him.

                Russ’ laughter caught her attention, bringing her attention back to the here and now. Aura was currently examining the wing-like tattoos on Russ’ biceps, his slender fingers touching the lines with whisper-soft lightness. When he raised his curious eyes to Russ’, the other man grinned. He flapped his arms and cawed like a bird in a poor emulation of the inspiration for the Amicitia tattoos. Laughing brightly, Aura copied him.

                The scene brought a gentle smile to Corrianna’s lips.

                “I never made you smile like that.”

                Corrianna jumped in her seat, gaze snapping toward Germina. The woman sat in the seat next to her, but Corrianna was so focused on Russ and Aura, she never even noticed her approach.

                “It’s just another thing that pisses me off about him,” she continued, voice low as she watched her brother exit his tent, a folded stack of clothes in hand.

                “You did make me smile like that. At least at first,” Corrianna whispered back. “But I don’t feel like hashing this out with you again, Germ. We’re done. And I’d rather you hate me for that than him. He’s done nothing wrong.”

                “Always defending him.” The woman shook her head, adjusting her glasses.

                “Maybe if you clearly explain to me _why_ his life is such a personal offense to you, I can do a better job of seeing things from your point of view.”

                Crossing one leg over the other, Germina remained silent for a long time. Expression neutral, she watched Petram and Clarus dote on Aura. They brushed the years-worth of knots and tangles from his hair, adjusted the too-big clothes so he could move freely, and entertained him.

                “I’ll tell you the same thing I told him; he’s a thief,” she eventually answered, voice solid but barely above a whisper.

                Scowling and wrinkling up her nose, Corrianna turned to look directly at Germina. “How?”

                “How is any thief a thief? He takes things which don’t belong to him.”

                “What? Germ, if you think this is a good explanation, I—”

                “Doesn’t matter,” Germina interrupted. “You’d never be on my side no matter what I say.”

                “Germ, what’s going on?”

                Finally turning toward Corrianna, Germina pinned her with an intense stare from her mismatched eyes. “I’m resigning from the Kingsglaive and the Crownsguard. Consider this my official notice.”

                “What? No, Germ, you can’t!”

                Sighing, the woman rose effortlessly from her seat. “I can, and am. I’ll carry out my duties here, but once we’re home, I’m joining the Hunters.”

                “Please reconsider, Germina.”

                She shook her head, her thick dark hair swaying gently. “Oh, and for the record Cor…I could never hate you.”

                Corrianna watched the woman walk away, her vision quickly blurring with tears. Anger boiled inside her, paired with frustration and confusion. Her mind was blank, her muscles tense, and her heart thumped painfully against her ribs. _She_ should be the one resigning…maybe replacing her bother at those frozen northern outposts where she could work alone and stop causing those around her pain.

                She should never have tried to follow in the auspicious footsteps of the Famous Four and the entire Lucis Caelum bloodline. She was too soft, too sensitive.

                Sniffling loudly, Corrianna blinked to clear her eyes and looked up to find three sets of eyes watching her, full of worry. Aurarum stood before Petram and Russ, brows quivering. He knelt on the ground at Corrianna’s feet, reaching up and swiping his thumbs across her cheeks with the same gentleness he used to touch Russ’ tattoo. She was amazed how someone who didn’t know her, who never interacted with people before, could show such compassion.

                Corrianna’s brow twitched and the tears began to flow in earnest.  She sat there, paralyzed as emotion overflowed and spilled out. Stress and hurt and worry—her own and some she held on behalf of others. It all poured out.

                Aura cast a panicked glance over his shoulder at the other men. She was sad. He knew that. He didn’t know why, but he wanted to help. Wanted to hear her pretty, happy sounds again. Wanted to feel the calm she radiated when she was with the big one.

                Turning back toward her, he watched the pearls of water roll down her cheeks for a moment. Wiping them away as best he could, he lifted a hand to pet her soft, dark hair and tried to mimic the quiet, calming sounds he heard a feline making to her litter.

                Taking his eyes off her for just a brief second, he watched the big one sit in the empty place beside her. He put an arm around her and pulled her toward him.

                “Cori.”

                That was the funny sound they used for her. Cori. It held no meaning to him, but he liked the sound of it. Maybe one day he could learn to mimic the noise and comfort her just like the big one did.

                Soon the water stopped coming from her eyes and she took a deep breath. She flashed a smile, but it didn’t reach her sparkling eyes. His chest hurt for her. He didn’t like this feeling.

                And it hurt even worse somehow when she touched his face—the spots on his cheeks that he shared with her—and the pain in her eyes only grew.

                Pulling away from her, he stood and took a step back. The other one—the pretty one—grabbed his shoulders and held him steady. Without thinking, he turned and wrapped his arms around his waist. Closing his eyes, he listened to the thumping in his chest.

                He didn’t know finding the pretty throat-sounds would make his chest ache like this. He never wanted to feel this again.


	15. Chapter 15

                Under all her muscle, her bravado, her attitude, Germina wasn’t immune to emotion. She always forgot that crucial piece of information. Just like her dad, she was hard on the outside and gooey in the center.

                She hated emotions.

                Her boiling anger fizzled out anticlimactically after landing a few blows to Clarus’ face earlier. She was still mad about a lot of things, but she didn’t feel like choking the life out of him anymore. His lack of reaction took the wind out her sails and made her realize nothing would ever change. _She_ needed to change, and the easiest way to do that would be to leave Insomnia behind.

                She let out a heavy sigh and realized she felt…rather empty. No anger, no fear, no…anything. This was just as bad as the all-encompassing rage. Maybe worse.,

                Tears burned behind her eyes. Yeah, this was definitely worse. At least when she was mad, she didn’t cry. Actually, she could count on one hand the number of times she recalled crying, the most vivid and painful being the most recent. The only one who saw her raw pain was Pops. She knew dad and Petram sensed it, as it lasted too long for her liking. Honestly, it never truly went away. The hurt. The heartache. Mostly the heartache.

                Throwing her glasses onto the bed, she scrubbed her hands over her eyes. Grumbling low in her throat, she hung her head. In the distance, outside the tent, she could hear soft voices…crying…The pain in her chest bubbled obnoxiously.

                Her phone rang.

                Germina shot a glare at the glowing screen. _Pops_ brightened her black background, so she scooped the device off the bed, swiped her finger across the screen, and held it to her ear.

                “What’s up, Pops?”

                “ _Are you still calling me that?_ ” sighed the voice of Ignis Scientia-Amicitia. Though it had softened with age, his tone still commanded respect.

                “Only because it annoys you. To what do I owe the pleasure? Isn’t it really early there?” Putting her phone on speaker, she stretched out on her cot.

                “ _Ah…yes, it’s not quite dawn yet. Your father is still asleep. A rather unsettling dream woke me, and his snoring is atrocious today._ ” The man breathed out a sound that could either be amusement or annoyance. It was always difficult to tell unless you could see his face.

                “His snoring is always atrocious. You sound off, dad. What’s wrong? Was your dream that bad?” Germina narrowed her eyes at the roof of her tent, listening to the silence dragging out between them as he tried to decide how to answer.

                “ _Possibly one of the worst dreams a parent can have_ ,” he muttered. “ _We lost you._ ”

                Germina let out a soft sigh. “I’m okay, dad.”

                “ _Are you? Gladio says you haven’t been yourself in your reports._ ”

                Squeezing her eyes shut, Germina pinched the bridge of her nose and groaned. Leave it to him to pick up on something like that.

                “ _Mina, I need you to tell me what’s going on._ ”

                “I quit,” she told him without preamble. There was no reason to tiptoe around it. She would need to tell them eventually, and it was just easier to rip off the proverbial band-aid.

                Ignis was silent, letting the confession sink in. He took a deep breath, the sound hissing through the speaker.

                “The Glaive and Guard,” Germina continued when the man didn’t answer. “I can’t do it anymore.”

                “ _What’s changed?_ ”

                Germina let a small smile tug at her lips before smothering it. This was one of her favorite things about him. He didn’t judge, didn’t make demands or refusals in situations like this, just asked for the reason behind your decision. For her, it took the emotion out of an emotionally charged situation. Others read him differently, but this was how she interpreted him.

                “Nothing,” Germina finally answered. “Nothing changed…it just escalated.”

                “ _Can you clarify?_ ”

                The patience in his dignified accent calmed her, yet made her miss him that much more. She wished she could reach through the phone and hug him like she did when she was small. Though, she was roughly the same height as him now…

                “Can you answer something for me first?”

                “ _I’ll try my best, sweetheart._ ”

                Germina flared her nostrils at the pet name. She never cared for them but didn’t deter her parents from using them. “Why Clarus?”

                There was a short silence where Germina could picture the furrow of his brow. “ _I’m sorry? What about Clarus?_ ”

                “What _not_ about Clarus?” Germina scoffed. “I swear life revolves around him.”

                “ _You never were very fond of your cousin._ ”

                “You haven’t answered me, dad.”

                “ _You’ve yet to ask a coherent question, Mina._ ”

                Closing her eyes, Germina decided it was time to ask one of the questions that plagued her daily. “Why did he choose Clarus over us?”

                Ignis took a second to decipher her question. “ _You wish to know why Clarus is Shield to Princess Corrianna?_ ”

                “Yes!”

                The man sighed heavily. “ _Is this the basis of your anger toward him? I promise the reason isn’t as insidious as you think._ ”

                “Please, just answer me.” Sitting up again, she set her phone on the bed and put her head in her hands.

                “ _To be entirely honest, the princess, like her brother, was never meant to have a Shield at all._ ”

                Germina scowled into her hands. “What?”

                There was a knock in the background of the call.

                “ _Excuse me a moment, Mina._ ”

                Without answering, Germina listened to the faint click as Ignis set the phone on his desk. She pictured his office in their quarters at the Citadel and found herself missing home more than before. The smell of old wood and leather-bound books that somehow survived the Days of Night. The comfortable familiarity of playing on the floor beside the massive desk while Ignis worked on some sort of important document. The warmth radiating from the fireplace as she and Petram napped on one dad’s chest while the other read from an old storybook to lull them to sleep. So many sweet, soft memories in that single room.

                She missed simpler days when she was small and soft herself. She was too young to be thinking this way, but her age did nothing to quell the bitterness she felt toward the world.

                Another clack and a soft swish of cloth indicated Ignis picked the phone up once again and Germina brought herself back to the confines of her tent.

                “ _Are you still there, Mina?_ ”

                “Yup.”

                Ignis sighed. “ _Would you mind if we picked this conversation up later? His Majesty has a rather important matter I need to attend to._ ”

                Germina mimicked the sigh. “I don’t have much of a choice, do I? His Majesty always comes first.”

                “ _Mina—_ ”

                “I’ll talk to you later, dad.” Annoyed, she hung up without waiting for him to say goodbye. She loved her parents, she really did, but they were so stuck in the past where their entire world revolved around Noctis Lucis Caelum.

                Grumbling low in her throat, she stood, still stooped, and exited her tent before standing to her full height. She stretched her back, breathed out a sigh, and let her gaze wander to the others.

                The air surrounding camp was somber, and Germina held no doubts it was partially her fault. She made Cori cry, and not for the first time. But she couldn’t do anything to fix it _this_ time, not that it mattered since she had Clarus there. He was _always_ there. Always at the forefront of her thoughts. Always tagging along behind her like the oversized pup he was. Always stealing. Her job. Her parents’ affection. Her brother’s attention. The love of her life.

                Clarus Amicitia was a thief.

                Corrianna was too good for him.

                And she wasn’t good enough for anyone.

                Everyone was shouting, there was a hand on her arm and Clarus Amicitia was blinking up at her from the ground. She wrenched herself away from the hand and landed a kick to Clarus’ thigh.

                Straddling the man, she fell to her knees and twisted one hand in his shirt as she delivered a blow to his cheek. She shoved away the hands coming to pull her away and slammed her fist into his face again. Her world narrowed, vision tunneling, sound garbled as she let her fury pour out for the second time that day.

                It only managed to make her angrier that he didn’t fight back.

                Another pair of hands landed on her shoulder and she tried to shake them off. They wouldn’t let go. Germina twisted to force the hands away only to find herself staring into periwinkle eyes. She was wrenched off of Clarus, arm twisted up behind her back. She was forced to her feet to save her arm from being broken. Wincing, she tried to free herself, but the little blond brat held her still. He pushed her arm up, sending a spark of pain through her shoulder. Just as abruptly, he jerked her around to face him, spun, and threw her onto the ground like she weighed no more than a sack of feathers.

                Breath knocked from her lungs, she blinked up at the late evening sky and wheezed. Her hearing focused and her vision opened, and she was left feeling nothing once again.

                “Shiva’s tits, Germina! What the hell is wrong with you?”

                Germina remained silent as Corrianna’s pretty, furious face filled her vision.

                “Your behavior is inexcusable! I don’t care what you think about Russ, this is no way for a member of a noble family to act!” Her soft eyes always darkened to bluer hues when she was angry, and they were quite dark now. Even her freckles took on a deeper shade.

                Eyes narrow, Germina’s head lolled to the side and she met Aurarum’s gaze. His brows quivered as he hid half behind Petram. It wasn’t the face of a man who just overpowered her with ease. Did he even know what he just did? Either way, he was dangerous.

                Vaguely away of Corrianna still shouting at her, Germina sat up and scrubbed a hand over the buzzed side of her hair.

                “Are you listening to me, Germina? Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

                Broad shoulders rising and falling with a sigh, Germina locked eyes with Corrianna. “The only thing I have left to say would hurt you and embarrass you.”

                “You’ve already done that.”

                Fixing her glasses, Germina rose to her feet, towering over the other woman. Reaching out with tender fingers, she touched Cori’s braid, relieved when she didn’t flinch away. There would be no going back after this. The bridge would be well and truly burned.

                Germina pulled Cori against her and bent down to capture her lips in a final kiss. She sighed against the familiar, sweet fit. Cori was stiff with surprise. When she pulled away, she licked her lips and felt her heart thump against her ribs.

                “I still love you.”


	16. Chapter 16

                If not for the seriousness of the situation, Ignis would have laughed at the expression on his husband’s face. His heavy brows angled sharply downward into a scowl, his shoulder-length hair stood up in a variety of waves, and his leathery skin still sported red sleep marks. He was the very picture of a grumpy old man pulled too early from his bed.

                “The hell’s so important it has you, and consequently, me, out of bed at this hour? Especially when we have a free morning for once,” the man growled, half of his words garbled by a yawn.

                Noctis glanced at Prompto, silently asking if he would like to begin the impromptu meeting. Bags sat heavy beneath their eyes and exhaustion pulled at their features. They seemed old beyond their years.

                Clearing his throat, Prompto stretched his arms out on the table, making sure the barcode tattooed on his wrist was visible. “My past is coming back to bite me again.”

                Brows twitching, Gladio sat up straight. “What’s that mean?”

                Prompto idly itched the fading freckles on his nose. “Apparently Aranea and I didn’t destroy all of the clones, despite obliterating the Production Facility.”

                “That can’t be right,” said Gladio. “From every report we heard, including your own, that explosion was massive. Nothing left but a crater.”

                Sighing, Prompto slid his phone across the table toward Gladio and Ignis. “I thought the same…until Cori sent me this picture.”

                “How is that possible?” Ignis asked, scowling at the screen and adjusting his glasses.

                “If anyone has an answer to that, I’d love to hear it.”

                “This _just_ happened?” Gladio now asked, picking up the phone.

                “We talked to Corrianna about an hour ago,” Noctis answered, crossing his arms.

                “You’re sure?” Ignis looked up at the man, brow arched.

                “Yeah. Look at the time stamp on the message.”

                “What’s wrong, Ig?” Gladio put a hand on the man’s shoulder, seeing the confusing pinching his features.

                “I was speaking with Mina when Noctis and Prompto arrived,” Ignis explained. “She didn’t mention this. Though she was behaving rather unlike herself.”

                “Well, why’d she call then, if it wasn’t about that?” Gladio wondered, eyes narrow.

                Ignis made a soft sound in his throat. “Actually, I called her. I had a terrible dream about her, so I couldn’t help myself. I’ll explain later. This is a more pressing matter,” he explained, clearing his throat and bringing everyone’s attention back to the image on Prompto’s phone.

                “Uh…right.” Prompto licked his lips and glanced at Noctis.

                “So, what do we do about this?” Noctis continued on the man’s behalf. “I’m inclined to either go there myself or send in a more experienced team as backup.”

                “Backup for what? It’s _one_ Prompto lookalike. I _get_ there could be more, but for now, let’s just take this as it comes. What do we know?” Crossing his arms over his chest, Gladio leaned back in his seat.

                “Not much. Uh…they named him Aurarum.”

                Gladio raised a brow. “Who came up with that gem?”

                “Your son.”

                Groaning, Gladio scrubbed a hand over his face as Ignis cleared his throat to mask a chuckle.

                “What else did she tell you?” the big man asked on a sigh.

                Noctis and Prompto repeated the few things their daughter told them about Aura. When they finished, Gladio and Ignis were torn between the gravity of the situation and grinning at what they were just told.

                “Sounds like we’ve got a real threat on our hands,” snickered Ignis.

                “Ig, can you not?” grumbled Prompto. “I know how it sounds, but you didn’t see that facility. You didn’t see rows and rows of people with your face, waiting to be turned into mindless soldiers. You never had to kill—” The word caught in his throat and his nostrils flared as he exhaled a shaky breath.

                Noctis wrapped an arm around Prompto’s shoulders and hugged him against his side. He shot a glare at Ignis.

                “Ah…apologies.”

                “Look, we get this is a big deal, Prompto. And we know what you went through was sick and twisted. But if this clone, this…Aura, didn’t have that mental conditioning, he’s basically a blank slate. Not dangerous unless someone teaches him to be. He’s clearly got some humanity in him, and some instinct to judge character. I mean…most people are scared of Russ if they don’t know him. They certainly wouldn’t sleep on him.”

                “Okay, so maybe Aura isn’t a threat. But what about others? Where did he come from? How is he so young?” questioned Prompto, combing his fingers through his hair.

                “That’s why we have boots on the ground in Gralea. To find answers to shit like this,” replied Gladio.

                “You’re talking about sending our kids into a shit storm of things they don’t understand. Our kids who, according to Cori, barely get along. Our kids, who have virtually no combat experience. _Our kids_ ,” hissed Noctis, clenching his hands into fists.

                “Noct!” barked Gladio, banging his fist on the table. “I get it. I get you don’t like it. I don’t like it, either. But what the hell do you think we were when we left the Crown City that day? _Kids_. Trained, with massive egos, but no _real_ combat experience. They need to learn, just like we did.  My kids can hold their own. Cori has barely tapped into her potential in a fight. And Russ is stronger than I ever was. They’ll be fine.”

                “While I’d rather not place them in this situation either, the entire point of this expedition was to give them experience, yes? True, we hoped this would ease them into real-world assignments, but it seems there were other plans already in place for them. There are units in Gralea available to provide assistance should they require it. That was explained to them already. I’m more concerned with their ability to function as a cohesive unit,” Ignis added with a sigh.

                Grumbling, Gladio sank low in his chair and glowered at the table. “I was really hoping being isolated out there would break Gem’s stupid stubborn independence a bit.”

                “It seems to have had the opposite effect.”

                “So we let them handle it, and hope they don’t kill each other in the process?” Prompto questioned, voice soft as he leaned heavily on Noctis, putting his head on the man’s shoulder.

                “What else can we do?”

                “She probably had questions for you. About Aura?” Ignis prodded, gaze sliding toward Prompto.

                “Yeah…I, uh…didn’t answer any of them. I panicked.”

                “You didn’t panic. You were caught off-guard and asked for a chance to process. She’ll understand,” Noctis replied.

                “We should actually get back to her and try and offer what help we can from here.”

                “Only if you’re ready, Prom.”

                The man shook his head. “I’ll never be ready, but it has to be done. I’m her dad, right? I’ll do anything to help her.”

                Noctis kissed Prompto’s temple.

                “Keep us posted,” Gladio yawned.

                “Yeah, sure.”

                “Now get out of my house.”

                Noctis rolled his eyes as he stood. “We’re going. Oh, and don’t break Ignis. I’m gonna need him later.”

                “The door’s over there, You Majesty,” Gladio grumbled with fond irritation. Shaking his head, he ignored the man’s chuckle as he turned toward Ignis. His husband wore an expression that said he was too old to blush, yet still embarrassed by the king’s jab.

                Setting his glasses on the table, Ignis sighed and threated his fingers into his hair.

                “What’s going on, babe?”

                Taking a moment to enjoy the warmth of Gladio’s large hand on his back, Ignis collected his thoughts. “I had a nightmare,” he whispered, glancing at Gladio out of the corner of his eye.

                Intimately familiar with the not-quite-dreams not-quite-premonitions his husband began experiencing after the Battle of Altissia decades ago, Gladio let out a soft sigh. Standing, he took Ignis’ hand and led him into the living room. He turned on one lamp before settling in his massive armchair. He beckoned Ignis to join him.

                “I’m not sitting in your lap, Gladio. We’re much too old for that sort of thing,” huffed Ignis, crossing his arms.

                “No one’s ever too old to show love and affection, babe. C’mere.”

                Rolling his eyes, Ignis deposited himself in the man’s lap. Curling up as easily as a cat finding its favorite window to sun in, he put his head on Gladio’s shoulder and a hand on his chest. Closing his eyes, he let out a content sigh.

                “Okay,” said Gladio, hooking his arms around Ignis, “tell me from the beginning.”

                Ignis did just that. He started retelling his dream, stopping a handful of times to collect himself. Each time, Gladio would simply rub his arm and wait for him to continue when he could. The details were difficult to get out, as the dream faded over the course of his conversation with Mina and the meeting with Noctis.

                Once he finished wading through the jumbled memories, he summarized his conversation with their daughter. Gladio’s arms tightened around him, but a simple caress of his chin relaxed him.

                “So, do you think her quitting has something to do with her jealousy of Russ?” Gladio asked slowly, voice a deep growl.

                “I do. I never realized she felt so strongly on the matter.”

                “Stupid kid. If she just asked me, I woulda explained it all.” Scrubbing a hand over his head, Gladio shook his head. “This is what we get for mixing the Amicitia and Scientia bloodlines. A kid with more pride and heart than either of us with a stubborn streak wider than Taelpar Crag.”

                “It was your idea to have children, dear,” Ignis teased.

                “I never agreed to them growing up, though.”

                “Thus is the fate of children, I’m afraid. But…what should we do? I don’t want her to…to leave.”

                Gladio’s arms tightened around him once again, but it was not tension or irritation this time.

                “Me either. Neither of them.”

                “You always connected with her better than me, so perhaps you ought to call her and explain your decision.” Tilting his head, Ignis nuzzled Gladio’s neck softly.

                Gladio hummed in his throat. “Should we bring Iris in on this, too?”

                “No…at least not yet. She had nothing to do with the choice you made. I would feel atrocious pulling her back into anything relating to the Days of Night. She suffered so much, and I don’t think a childish spat is enough reason to make her suffer further,” Ignis answered, hand sliding down to Gladio’s chest—still just as massive and impressive as it was in his youth. Still a source of comfort.

                “Something tells me _The Steel Flower of Insomnia_ wouldn’t suffer so much after we tell her her son beheaded a behemoth,” chuckled Gladio, kissing Ignis’ forehead.

                “If I recall correctly, last time you referred to her by that moniker, she gave you a black eye,” he reminded the man, slipping his fingers beneath the hem of his shirt.

                “Never understood why. I think it sounds cool,” laughed Gladio, eyebrow arching when he saw the man’s fingers crawl upward beneath his shirt. “Uh, Ig?”

                “Mm?”

                “What’re you doing?”

                Blinking softly, Ignis looked up at the man and raised his brows innocently. “Looking for something to take my mind off this mess for a while. At least until Noctis speaks to Corrianna.”

                “Finding anything to suit your needs?”

                Ignis smirked, petting the soft layer of hair covering the man’s chest. He was so glad Gladio lost interest in keeping it waxed. Well, not so much lost interest, as had much more important things to concern himself with. Either way, Ignis enjoyed the feel of it beneath his fingers.

                “Mm…I may have found a temporary amusement.”

                “Just a temporary one?” Grinning, Gladio shifted his arms and stood, scooping Ignis against his chest bridal style. The man yelped in surprise and shot a glare at Gladio.

                “Must you show off?”

                “It’s sweet you still think something like this is showing off,” Gladio replied, carrying Ignis toward their bedroom.

                “You’re terrible,” scolded Ignis, pinching Gladio’s nipple.

                The big man inhaled a sharp breath and arched a brow at Ignis. “I don’t think Noct gets to have you today.”

                “At least let me attend the Council meeting this afternoon.”

                “…Maybe.”


	17. Chapter 17

                The sharp crack of a slap echoed on the still evening air, startling a flock of birds from their roost in a nearby tree. No one moved. No one dared. Not even Aura, who didn’t entirely understand what was going on, wanted to move from his spot.

                Fury trembled through every inch of Corrianna, her entire face red. A deeper flush across her cheese accentuated her freckles, and her chest rose and fell with deep, controlled breaths. Before her, eyes downcast, Germina slowly lowered her hands to her sides.

                “If I were anyone else, you’d be getting a sexual assault charge on your record, _Captain_.”

                “My apologies, Princess,” Germina muttered, turning to leave.

                “No. You don’t get to throw _another_ apology in my face and think everything’s fixed!” Corrianna shouted. “You don’t get to humiliate me, throw everything in front of them, then walk away. Not again!”

                Germina stayed perfectly still, brows arched downward and jaw tight.

                “You always wanted everyone to look at you, Germina, so we’re all looking. You have everyone’s full attention! And since you’re so keen to place blame for everything wrong in your life on everyone else, maybe you’d like to take this chance to hear some of your faults. Ones, had you paid _any_ attention, you could have fixed before it got to this point.”

                “Cor—”

                “Or maybe you want to know the _real_ reason I broke up with you? How about that? Despite what you so stubbornly believed, it never had anything to do with Clarus. He never _stole_ me from you. You drove me away! You spent so much time trying to make your brother jealous, you never saw _me_.  You flirted with anyone you could, making sure he always saw you, always saw that smug superiority on your face. You’re a bully, Germina. Only interested in yourself.” Corrianna inhaled a shaky breath, tears obscuring her eyes. “So, don’t stand there and tell me you still love me when you barely cared about me at all.”

                “That’s not true…”

                “Stop lying!” Corrianna screamed, the sky above them darkening abruptly. Thunder rumbled dangerously overhead and a fork of lightning streaked through the clouds. Electricity crackled on the air.

                “Cori, I—” Germina tried to speak as the hair on her arms prickled with static.

                “Germina, I believe you’ve done enough damage. Perhaps it would be wise to return to your tent.” Petram stationed himself between the women, pinning his sister with a sharp stare. He broke it only briefly to glance skyward. Reflected in his glasses, distorted by glare, was the distinct figure of a man with a flowing white beard and high-collared robes.

                Germina shivered. Knowing there was nothing else she could say here, for the first time in memory, she abandoned a fight.

                Petram watched his sister leave, angry with her and afraid for her. He looked up at the sky again, still unsure he was truly seeing the Stormbringer looming over them. Sure enough, his form waited in the clouds, still and silent, foreboding amidst the near-constant roll of thunder.

                Admittedly, he was scared. Aura was scared, too. The blond gripped his arm tightly, pressing in close. Part of him wanted to push Aura away after watching his eyes glaze over and become lifeless when he grabbed Germina and threw her. There was something in him that could end them all if they weren’t careful. But…the other part of him wanted to pull Aura close and tell him everything would be okay.

                As Petram stood frozen, rapidly filtering through the options before him, Clarus finally rose to his feet. Eyes down, face obscured by blood and burgeoning bruises, he silently approached Corrianna. Stopping next to her, he put a hand on her shoulder.

                “It’s not worth it.”

                The sound of his voice broke through her angry haze and the ethereal pink glow creeping into her eyes vanished. The sky cleared, and the electricity crackled into nothing.

                Dropping his hand, Clarus continued to his own tent.

                Tears filling her eyes, Corrianna did the same, leaving Petram standing in the middle of camp, Aura at his side.

                Sighing, he turned toward the blond and tried to offer him a smile. Aurarum didn’t believe the false expression and put a flat hand in the center of Petram’s chest. His periwinkle eyes were sad, and his hand trembled. Petram took his hand and squeezed it gently.

                “I’m sorry you have to witness this,” he whispered, knowing Aura didn’t understand. But right now, he was the only one he had to talk to. “I’m sorry you’re seeing the worst of them when you should be seeing the best. You should be seeing Germina’s strength and courage. You should be seeing Clarus’ sweet, soft-hearted compassion. You should be seeing Corrianna’s humor, her curious nature, her…well…” Blinking to clear the burn behind his eyes, he sighed. He wasn’t sure how to process this much idiotic frustration. People were not his strong suit.

                Aura may not have known his words, but he understood the emotion behind them. Moving slowly, he lifted his other hand and put it to his own chest.

                “Ah,” he said softly before moving his hand to Petram’s chest. “Eet.” Leaning forward, he pressed his ear to the place where his hand was, listening to Petram’s heart.

                Though Petram wasn’t sure what Aura was trying to accomplish, he thought the gesture was sweet in its own way. Taking a deep breath, he absent-mindedly began to pet the man’s long hair. It was so soft now that it was clean.

                Closing his eyes, Petram took a moment to center himself. The repetitive motion of his hand helped him clear his mind. However, when the frustration at his friends slipped away, he was hit with a sudden fear. Not of Aurarum, but of himself. He was too calm here, too content. And something about this struck him as wildly inappropriate. Face heating up, he shoved Aura away and took a step back, eyes wide.

                Brows twitching, Aurarum stared up at Petram, confusion lighting his features. “Eet?”

                Petram breathed out a shaky chuckle, gaze falling to the ground between them. “Ah…I apologize. I’m not sure what that was.” His brief smile faded as soon as it graced his lips, and he rubbed his jaw. Taking another step back, he shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut. When he opened them, Aura was still looking up at him like a lost puppy. His heart thumped hard in his chest.

                Aurarum’s stomach grumbled insistently.

                Shoulders falling, a timid smile returned to Petram’s face. “Hungry?” he asked, mimicking the gesture the blond used earlier to describe eating.

                He nodded enthusiastically.

                “Guess I’d best prepare something then.” Petram was more than happy for the distraction.

 

***

 

                Aura wrinkled up his nose when the pretty one—Pete—turned away. This one confused him. His heart rate shifted rapidly, his skin turned pink on his face, and he seemed much more guarded than the others. But Aura liked him. He was nice, he knew what Aura wanted, he had a warmth around him that was comforting. He wasn’t so fond of the funny feeling in his belly whenever they touched, though. It wasn’t something he ever felt before.

                Sitting heavily on a crate while Pete started doing…something, he had no clue what…Aura watched him without really seeing him. He retreated into his own thoughts, a place where he spent a lot of time. Having spent so many years alone, his thoughts were the only place he had company. Until he met the little friend who visited him from Shadows. He could use her comfort and familiarity right now.

                But he wasn’t alone anymore. He had others who looked like him, now. He had only seen these others—people, something in the back of his mind told him—in pictures. He saw lots of pictures. Of an old, wrinkled man with white hair who seemed familiar. Of another wrinkled man who had heavy, mean eyes. Of someone with wild berry-colored hair and an unhappy smile. So many pictures. They were his only friends for a long time. He greeted them each time he would pass the pictures in the fancy rooms. Rooms he stopped visiting after they started feeling…wrong to him. Strange dark stains marred walls and floors, and they made him uneasy.

                He closed off entire sections of his home many years ago because of those creeping stains. They scared him. The monsters scared him. But these people…they didn’t. Even though some scary things happened, safety blanketed their presence. Though he also felt different somehow, like something inside him was trying to wake up. Something he had no use for until now.

                Nothing was what it had been yesterday.

                That scared him more than these new people. These new experiences. It was that nothing would ever be how it was.

                Aura drew his feet up onto the crate and hugged his knees. The coverings—clothes, Pete said—he wore were loose, too big, but warm and soft. And they smelled good. Not like stale mildew. He liked these clothes.

                Alluring smells wafted past Aura and his eyelids drooped. Sleepy and hungry were common sensations to him, but rarely were they paired with comfort. Next to him, Pete was making pretty sounds in his throat that reminded him of the noises that came off the funny round discs he had at home.

                Aura smiled, blinking softly at Pete. He smiled back, his cheeks that strange pink color again. Aura didn’t know what that was, but right now, he liked it. And he _really_ liked the smells coming from whatever was in the bowl on the table.

                Pete slid the bowl toward him and made some noises he didn’t understand. He picked up his own bowl and a tiny scoop. Each time he brought the scoop to his mouth, he blew on it first.

                Aura looked down at the strange lumpy liquid in the bowl and inhaled deeply. The smells made his mouth water. Licking his lips, he watched Pete repeat his action a few times before imitating him to eat his meal. When the liquid in the tiny scoop hit his tongue, the heat and flavor surprised him, and he instinctively spit the food out. Tongue hanging out, he whimpered at Pete with wide eyes.

                Trying to hide a smirk, Pete set his own bowl down and bent over a chest. Lifting the lid, he pulled out a clear vessel which contained clear fluid. Twisting off the stopper, he handed it over. Aura had seen many variations of this type of vessel, empty and discarded, yet he never thought to find one with a stopper to carry water with him wherever he went. The water inside _this_ vessel was icy cold and felt nice as he drank it.

                When he finished with the water, he set it aside and glowered at the contents of his bowl.

                “Aura.”

                Raising his head, he looked up at Pete. The man held the tiny scoop before his lips and blew gently across the contents. He did this a few times before putting it in his mouth.

                Wrinkling up his nose, he eyed the food suspiciously. Stomach still rumbling insistently, he decided to try again. He copied Pete closely this time, and while the food was still hot, it didn’t burn.

                Three more helpings later, and he was happy, full, and ready to sleep. Yawning, he pointed to where Cori went earlier.

                “Eee?”

                Pete shook his head, then made some more noises. He took a deep breath and got to his feet, holding a hand out.

                Aura took the hand and Pete pulled him to his feet before quickly letting go. He followed his new friend into one of the strange cloth buildings. The space was small, with a narrow bed, and an open bag full of various items. He couldn’t stand up straight inside.

                Pete pulled back the cover of the bed and motioned toward it. Aura blinked up at him. He nodded, and the side of his mouth curved upward. Cautiously, Aura crawled onto the small, firm bed. The coverings were soft and clean and smelled like Pete. He closed his eyes as Pete pulled the cover up over his shoulders. This was different than his own bed, warmer, safer.

                Aura had no trouble falling asleep that night.


	18. Chapter 18

                Beaten up by the same teammate twice in one day. Russ couldn’t get any more pathetic if he tried. His face was a swollen, scabby mess, and he didn’t have any curatives. His ribs were sore. He wished he could bleach his brain of the stuff he saw today.

                Wrapping his arm around his ribs, Russ slowly sat up, biting back a groan as he did. Taking a few steadying breaths, he picked up his phone and turned on the display. It was late. Early? Nearly four in the morning. He couldn’t sleep and judging by the lack of snoring to his left, neither could Cori.

                Pulling on a clean shirt, he heaved out a sigh and stepped out into the cool night air. Five steps were all it took to get from his tent to Corrianna’s. He had no idea what to do now that he was here, however. He couldn’t exactly knock on a tent flap.

                “Cor, you up?” he whispered, rubbing his hands on his pant legs.

                There was a heavy sigh and a swish of cloth inside. “Sadly. Come in.”

                Ducking inside as Corrianna turned on her battery-powered lamp, Russ kept his eyes down. She crossed her legs on her cot, tugging her blanket into her lap with one hand and pushing her hair away from her face with the other. She watched Russ sit down and lean against her duffle. He stared at his feet for a long while.

                “So…you and Germina?”

                Letting out a long, slow groan, Corrianna put her face in her hand.

                “I, uh, didn’t know you leaned that way,” he muttered.

                “I don’t lean any way, Russ. C’mon, just spit it out, man. I’d like to get past this.” Blinking, she lifted her head and pinned him with her no-nonsense stare.

                “Why didn’t you tell me?”

                “How did you not notice?”

                “Because until last week, I avoided the twins like the plague, and you never talked about her. There wasn’t much for me _to_ notice.”

                “I remember at least three separate occasions when I showed up with massive hickeys on my neck. You never even batted an eye.”

                “You know I don’t pay attention to that sort of stuff.”

                “Maybe you should start.”

                Russ flinched, dropping his gaze again.

                Corrianna groaned softly, throwing aside her blanket and sliding off the bed to sit in front of Russ. “Sorry, I didn’t mean that. I’m saying a lot of stupid shit I don’t mean lately. I need to learn to shut up and command. Not get involved. Don’t…feel.”

                “Don’t be stupid, Cori. Look, I don’t care that you dated Germ. Sure, I might question your tastes a little more now, but I’m not gonna judge you for it. You’re gonna have to do an awful lot to stop being my best friend. Yeah, I’m kinda pissed you never told me, but I trust you had your reason. That mess that happened out there was _not_ your fault. You didn’t cause these bruises. Germ’s got some stupidly misguided jealousy she needs to control, but I’m not mad. You shouldn’t be, either. Just brush it off. I’m real tired of giving you these long-winded talks.”

                “Saying to brush it off doesn’t mean a whole lot coming from a man who has an inferiority complex, Russ.”

                He blushed darkly and scrubbed a hand through his hair. “I do not.”

                “You do so! The only reason you aren’t mad is because you don’t think you’re allowed to be.”

                “That’s not—”

                Rolling her eyes, Corrianna reached out and grabbed Russ’ lips, pinching them shut. She gave him a long, hard stare, keeping a straight face despite the comical expression on his.

                “Clarus Aurum-Amicitia, listen to me. Germina is a petty, jealous woman. She is also the _least_ of my concerns right now.  Aura is my biggest concern.” Sighing, she released Russ and frowned.

                “You talked to your dads?” Russ asked softly, tilting his head to see Corrianna’s eyes in the lamplight.

                “Uh, yeah. They asked me not to repeat a lot of what they told me, though,” she mumbled.

                “That bad, hey?”

                Corrianna lifted her head and stared at Russ with glittering eyes and a firm set to her quivering jaw.

                Sighing to himself, Russ opened his arms to the woman like he had done many times before. He wondered how many times he was comforting her after an argument with Germina. How many times did he give her the attention the other woman didn’t?

                Corrianna’s cheeks flushed deeply as she moved into Russ’ arms. He had always been bigger than her, and very few things made her feel as safe. In the early stages of her relationship with Germina, she felt like this, but eventually feeling those arms around her just made her sad.

                Leaning her head against his shoulder, Corrianna let out a shuddering sigh. He hugged her, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head.

                “What c’n you tell me?”

                “I…don’t even know where to start dissecting everything they told me. Their lives were so messy, and there’s so much we were never taught. Including the circumstances around our own lives.”

                “What do you mean?”

                “Well, you know none of us were natural babies, right?”

                “Yeah.”

                “Repurposed Empire cloning technology. Mira was the first _positive_ result of the human experimentation in Niflheim,” Cori explained, pausing for a second and frowning. Russ could see she was sorting through the new information her parents gave her, trying to decide what she could say.

                “They found him, found out he was created using their DNA. Instead of getting pissed, they decided to bring the tech home and perfect it. I guess it gave a lot of parents a good chance to have biological kids.” Shrugging, Corrianna snuggled closer to Russ. “But the Empire wasn’t making kids for families…”

                “Soldiers,” Russ stated.

                “Soldiers,” confirmed Cori.

                “So, Aura is just a clone of your dad?”

                Licking her lips, Corrianna hummed. “To make things simple, yes.”

                “And you probably can’t talk about the complicated explanation, so I won’t ask. I…I don’t think the world is ready for _two_ Prince Prompto’s. One is already a handful, from what I understand,” he joked.

                Cori chuckled. “Oh, you have no idea.”

                “So, we’re Nif-inspired test-tube babies. Whatever, right? That has no bearing on who we are, it’s just how we got here,” said Russ, giving Cori a squeeze. “And we’ve seen the shells of Magitek Troopers. Does it really surprise you they were immoral assholes who experimented on people? I mean, they purposefully accelerated the spread of the Starscourge, right? Yeah, it sucks your dads had to go through so much shit, but they dealt with it, right? They came out the other side stronger. Just like Pete and Germ’s parents. Just like my parents. They made it, and they built a world for us. Now we’re here to clean up the little nuisances. That’s all this is. A nuisance.”

                Chest tight, Corrianna twisted and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Why didn’t I pick you first?”

                “Huh?”

                “You always know just what to say. You’ve always been there. You’ll always be there,” she mumbled. Shifting her weight, she hooked her leg over Russ’, so she was straddling his thigh.

                “Uh, yeah? Cori, what’re you doin’?”

                Turning her head, Corrianna brushed her lips against the stubble on his jaw. She slid one hand across the back of his neck, then forward to hold the side of his head. She pressed herself against his side and kissed his cheek.

                Licking his lips, Russ puffed a breath through his nose and braced himself with one hand on the floor of the tent. His face was so hot he thought his cheeks may combust. He was keenly aware of Corrianna’s heat as well.

                Placing slow, soft kisses to Russ’ cheek and jaw, Corrianna coaxed him to turn his face toward hers. His pretty brown eyes shone brightly in the darkness and his tongue darted out to wet his plump bottom lip. Her heart slammed against her ribs as he stared up at her, uncertainty coloring his features. His face glowed red and his hands trembled against her back.

                Taking his chin between her thumb and forefinger, she stroked the coarse hair he called a beard as she tilted his head back. Listening to her heart beat in her ears, she kissed him.

                Russ inhaled sharply, his chest pushing against hers. She was so warm and soft and was filling his head with things he never thought before. Like how putting his lips against someone else’s might actually feel good and not be as gross as it looked. Like how he was feeling weirdly tingly everywhere she touched him. Like how his body’s reaction wasn’t just a biological embarrassment right now.

                There was a slight tug against his mouth as Corrianna pulled back, his damp lips sticking to hers. Butterflies cycloned in his belly. He had a thousand thoughts at once, yet none were coherent. Electricity tingled through his body, his mouth was dry and sweat prickled his sides. Is this what it felt like to be aroused? If it was, he didn’t like it. Yet curiosity told him to keep going.

                “Cori,” he breathed, biting his lip as he searched her gaze. Nerves, fear, and excitement made an absolute mess of his insides. Was this normal? This probably wasn’t normal.

                She stared at him with foggy eyes, fingers combing into his messy hair. She scraped her short fingernails along his scalp and kissed him again. She didn’t push, kept it a light brush of lips on lips, yet he could feel her waiting for permission to go further. His hands fell to her hips, his grip loose. She shifted under his hands, pressing against his thigh. She was _so warm_.

                “Cori,” he repeated, swallowing hard.

                “Do you want to stay?” she asked, resting her forehead against his.

                “Yeah,” he answered without thought. Tilting his chin, he caught her lips in another kiss. She pushed back, poking her tongue between his lips. Instincts told him to open his mouth, so he did, allowing her to take the lead. After all, she knew what she was doing.

                Corrianna dripped her hands to Russ’ waist as she slid her tongue over his. She was gentle, pausing each time she did something different, and encouraging him to copy her. Pulling back slightly, she dragged his bottom lip between her teeth.

                “Ow,” he hissed out.

                Brow twitching, Corrianna smacked her lips against the coppery tang of blood. Kissing him must have broken one of his scabs open.

                Without missing a beat, she pulled a curative vial from the Armiger and broke it against his chest as she went in for another kiss. Magic tingled between them, through them.

                Chest tight, Corrianna bumped her forehead against Russ’ and squeezed her eyes shut. Tears slipped down her cheeks.

                Hands soft, warm, and gentle, Russ wiped the tears away. He tilted her head and kissed her eyelids, her nose, the side of her mouth, then fully on the lips. She curved into him, cupping his jaw with her tiny hands. She tipped her head back and Russ’ kisses traveled over her chin and down her neck.

                Corrianna loved the feeling of Russ’ stubble against her skin, but she wanted to feel it in places other than her neck. Leaning back, she pulled her shirt over her head and tossed it aside. The air was cool, even inside the tent, but Cori was more than warm enough.

                Frozen, eyes wide and lips parted, Russ’ cheeks practically glowed they were so red. He had forgotten how busty Cori was, as she spent most of her time wearing a sports bra. Her breasts hung heavy and full on her chest, plump on the bottom, shaped like fat pears. Her nipples were small and hard, and her areolas were large, a nice pink color that faded into her natural skin tone.

                Despite what he was led to believe by listening to other men talk, he didn’t find them inherently arousing. They were breasts. Loads of people had them. But the way Cori’s dark hair flowed over her freckled shoulders, and the curves of her breasts, the way her chest swelled with each breath, the way her nipples brushed against his shirt…those were the things that made them arousing. That they were _Corrianna’s_ made them arousing.

                Corrianna took his hands in hers and rubbed her thumbs across his palms before putting them to her chest. He squeezed, and she let out a soft moan and rolled her hips, pressing herself harder against his thigh.

                Russ massaged the heavy, firm mounds, a little disappointed they weren’t as soft and squishy as media made breasts look. As he rubbed his thumbs over her nipples, he realized just how naïve he was. He didn’t mind not knowing anything about something he typically had no interest in, but right now he was a little disappointed he wouldn’t be very good at pleasing Corrianna.

                Blinking softly, Cori watched Russ timidly play with her tits. His touch was soft, teasing though he didn’t do it intentionally. She could see in his furrowed brow and shaking hands how nervous he was. She found it endearing. It wasn’t experience she was looking for right now, anyway. Though something about his massive, rough, shaking hands caressing and massaging her sensitive skin sent jolts of pleasure straight through her.

                Cori sighed, shifting more of her weight into Russ’ thigh. She was sure if he wasn’t wearing pants, he would be able to feel the damp seeping through her shorts. Thinking hard, she could not seem to remember a time something turned her on so fast. Maybe it was some of the tension leaving her body. Maybe it was her excitement at finally having Russ where she always fantasized. Either way, as his calloused thumbs brushed over her nipples, her clit throbbed. It would be so easy to get off just by grinding on his leg.

                Corrianna expected this entire endeavor to be slow, perhaps a little clumsy on Russ’ part, but a decent distraction. She should have known better after seeing him in battle. No one had instincts like Clarus Aurum-Amicitia.

                Hands leaving her breasts, one sliding to her waist, the other dipping lower to grope her backside, Russ pulled her snuggly against his body. She arched toward him and he bent down, opening his mouth and taking her left nipple between his lips. Sucking hard and flicking it with his tongue, he tugged on it with his teeth, then switched to the other side. Swapping back and forth a few times, it wasn’t long before he left her nipples dark and a bit swollen.

                Panting, Corrianna pulled him away from her chest, a shiver passing through her as the air breezed across the abused flesh. Russ gazed up at her with foggy eyes, his wet lips parted. He swallowed hard and before she could blink, he had her on her back, staring up at him.

                The cool tent floor felt nice against her skin, and her entire body tingled, ready to feel more of what Russ could do. She felt so small lying here beneath him. So vulnerable, so at his mercy. The thought sent delicious pulses through her. Of the handful of partners she fell into bed with, Russ was the second to make her feel this way. The first, of course, was Germina.

                Russ didn’t need to know about the kinks he fulfilled for her, though. At least, not yet.

                Biting her lip, Corrianna grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled it up over his head. Straddling her hips, he sat back and tossed the garment aside to join her shirt in some corner of the tent. Staring down at her, eyes half-lidded, he combed his fingers through his messy blond hair.

                Corrianna let out a soft, involuntary whimper at the sight above her. Six feet and four inches of picturesque yet functional muscle wrapped around the sweetest personality she ever had the blessing to meet. His cock rest against his thigh inside grey sweatpants, hard and impressive. Though she couldn’t be certain with the shadows and dim lighting, its size was nothing to scoff at. In fact, it tied a tiny nervous knot in her gut.

                Reaching out, Corrianna brushed her fingers along the clothed length. Russ hissed out a breath, his cock twitching. He radiated heat. Dropping one hand, he rubbed himself through his pants and shifted his hips.

                Corrianna moaned, squeezing her legs together. Her nipples tingled and tightened, and her clit throbbed again, almost painfully. She couldn’t decide which she wanted more; his face between her legs, or his massive cock inside her. Either way, _something_ had to be done. She was so wet, she thought she may have pissed herself.

                Grabbing his hand, Corrianna directed his rough fingers between her legs. They couldn’t just stare at each other all night, after all. She wanted to cum, and if she had to take control for that to happen, so be it.

                Russ curled his finger, pressing against the damp patch on her shorts. She moaned, her toes curling. His cock twitched. Curling over her, Russ attached his lips to her neck as he massaged the soft, hot flesh between her legs. If she was this hot and damp through her clothes, he _needed_ to know how she felt without anything between them.

                Licking the side of her neck and scraping his teeth over his shoulder, he swung his leg over so he could take off her shorts. With one hand, he yanked them down to her knees, then slid them gently to her ankles. She kicked her foot, flinging them off into the shadows of the tent.

                Still busy kissing and nipping at her neck and shoulder, Russ slipped his hand between Cori’s legs once again. In all honesty, if he thought about it, he had no idea what, or where, he was touching. Turning his brain off and following his instincts and Corrianna’s guidance would be his best bet. Keeping his touch light, he stroked his fingers over the smooth black pubic hair growing on the fleshy mound. She muttered a protest about not touching in the right place and told him to stop teasing. He mumbled an apology while she guided his fingers right where she wanted them. She giggled softly at the confusion on his face, her breasts jiggling subtly.

                Swallowing thickly as his fingers slid inside Corrianna, Russ studied her face. Her lips were parted, a light blush coloring her cheeks, and a fog in her eyes. She looked happy, yet something else was burning the edges of that happiness. Something about that irked him, but not enough to distract him from the wet heat pulling at his fingers.

                Pressing his index and middle fingers in as far as he could, he wiggled them and curled them inside her. When he pushed against the strange smooth-yet-not walls of the tight passage, Cori gasped. Eyes wide, Russ yanked his hand back. She shot him a glare, grabbed his hand and moved it back between her legs. Taking the not-so-subtle hint, he continued his curious exploration.

                Corrianna was slick, his fingers squelching as he moved them in and out. Wetness rolled down the back of his hand and her muscles clenched around his fingers. She bit her lip, whimpering and pushing back against his hand.

                Listening to her sounds, watching her expression shifting between concentration and pleasure, Russ was hit with a very strong, yet equally brief wall of revulsion. He _wanted_ to do this, he really did. He wanted to make Corrianna happy, enough so that he temporarily forgot how gross he thought sex was. Admittedly, it was decidedly _less gross_ with Cori, but still…

                Sighing his name, Corrianna flattened her hands on his chest, petting his extra-fine blond chest hair. Tugging on the pendant hanging from his neck, she admired the way the lamplight reflected on the iris relief before moving her hand back to his chest. She tweaked his nipple, making him squeak in surprise. Smirking, she moved her hands again, this time to cup his face. She tugged him down, still riding his fingers as she kissed him again. Her lips trailed from his mouth, across his jaw to his ear. She suckled on his earlobe, flicking the silver stud with her tongue before trailing more kisses down his neck.

                Hoping her kisses kept him distracted, Corrianna wrapped her legs around Russ’ waist. Getting her arms in position, she used his preoccupation against him and tossed him onto his back. It was one of her favorite defensive moves, and she especially enjoyed using it on people larger than her.

                Russ blinked up at her, eyes wide and round. Corrianna grinned and winked, wiggling on top of him. He squeezed her thigh and reached up to fondle one breast. Rolling her hips, she rubbed against his hard, clothed cock gently, teasing. He licked his lips, brow twitching.

                Corrianna was tired of playing around. Lifting her hips, she looked beneath her to see wet stains on the crotch of Russ’ pants. She wasn’t entirely sure if she caused the stains, or if he did, but she didn’t really care. Without moving off him, Corrianna pushed Russ’ pants down as far as she could from this awkward position.

                Russ was hard, wet, and honestly, a little intimidating. But Cori was _very_ ready. He let out a tiny gasp as she wrapped her hand around him. Throwing an arm across his eyes, he tried to keep his breathing under control as all these new sensations gripped him. First the warm, delicate touch of her slender fingers. Then the slippery, smooth rubbing along the head of his dick as she slid him along her folds. Then the wet, burning squeeze slowly moving from head to base as she took his entire length inside of her.

                Moaning softly, Corrianna sat heavily on his lap, adjusting to his size. He was a big boy, but he fit her so nicely. He throbbed inside her, twitching deliciously against her walls. She hadn’t even moved yet, but she already felt so good, so _full_.

                Russ let out a whimpering moan as Cori lifted her hips, then dropped back down. He’d never felt anything like this before, and he knew he wouldn’t last more than a few seconds. Her name spilled from his lips as she bounced in his lap and he pushed his hips up to meet her. Breathing hard and fast, he gripped her hips with bruising force, mouth hanging open to let loud moans free.

                It wasn’t long until any coherent thoughts he had left turned into a jumbled mess of hot, wet, tight bliss. It all twisted tighter and tighter until something inside snapped and he unraveled with an airy grunt. He came deep inside Corrianna, only making things hotter and wetter as she continued to impale herself on his somehow still hard cock. He held onto her, watching as she squeezed her own tits and clenched around him. Strings of sticky wetness spiderwebbed between them each time she lifted away from his body. And each time she dropped back down, her ass hit his thighs with a sharp smack.

                Cori’s mouth fell open and one hand dropped to rub violently at the hard lump between her legs as she thrust against him. His eyes lost focus and her muscles pulsed and quivered around his cock, dragging him to another orgasm. He had no idea he was so sensitive, but he didn’t have time to care as he came again, right along with the woman on top of him. She clamped down like a vice around him, then released, spasming as she came.

                Panting, Corrianna collapsed against his chest, aftershocks shooting through her, accentuated by her nipples rubbing against his chest hair. Letting out a heavy, satisfied, full-body sigh, she closed her eyes and nuzzled his neck.

                Though he didn’t do much moving, Russ was exhausted. All his muscles were like jelly, his limbs bags of sand. He couldn’t seem to do much more than throw an arm across Corrianna’s back. His mind was a pleasant, fuzzy haze.

                Outside, the sky was fading into the pinks and golds of dawn but sleep finally claimed Russ and Corrianna after a long day, and an even longer night.


	19. Chapter 19

                Petram was the first to wake the next day, and a knot of anxiety in his gut greeted him. And the weight of a five-foot-eight-inch, malnourished clone.

                Aura was draped across his hip like an oversized house cat, sleeping soundly. Petram had no idea how to feel about this, nor why his attention began on Corrianna and shifted to him. It seemed odd how affectionate he was despite never having seen people before in his life. He would have expected Aura to behave more like a wild animal and less like a long-lost house pet. Then again, nothing about Aura was typical.

                Taking a deep breath, Petram wiped the sleep from his eyes and put his glasses on. With a protest from his back, he got his elbows under him and sat up. Sleeping on the ground all night did not do him any favors.

                “Aura,” he whispered, voice gravelly, “time to wake up.”

                The blond groaned and curled up tightly, twisting his hand in Petram’s shirt.

                “Honestly. Did they use feline DNA when they created you? The day is already dragging on. Up!” He grabbed a lock of Aura’s silky hair and tugged it gently.

                Brow wrinkly, Aura cracked an eye open and glared at Petram. It was a soft, sleepy glare, the type that wasn’t remotely threatening. Petram shook his head and poked the crease between Aura’s brows.

                “No,” stated the blond, closing his eyes again.

                Brows arched, Petram blinked at Aura. “Uh…excuse me?”

                “Don’t wanna.”

                Petram blinked again. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, cleared his throat, and tried again. “It’s time to get up, Aura.”

                “No. We stay.”

                Petram wasn’t sure what alarmed him more; that Aura was speaking when he could barely squeak yesterday, that he was already talking back, or that his voice mimicked his own, only higher in pitch.

                Taking a steadying breath, Petram rubbed at the stubble on his jaw. “Not a morning person? Well, that won’t do, dear. Come on, now. Time for breakfast.” Patting Aura’s cheek, he extracted himself from beneath the blond.

                “Break…fast?” Aura repeated, reluctantly sitting up. He stretched and yawned widely, lips settling into a pout as he watched Petram find a fresh shirt.

                “The morning meal. Food,” Petram clarified.

                “Food!” Aura perked up considerably.

                Refraining from rolling his eyes, Petram ushered Aura out of the tent ahead of him. The blond followed him closely until he reached his workbench, where he sat down on the same box as the night before. As he had previously, Aura watched Petram’s every move intently. His eyes were sharp, even having just woken up.

                “Did you not like the bed?” Petram asked, unable to bear the silence for long.

                “You cold. I help.” Aura beamed at Petram.

                Heat prickled at Petram’s cheeks. Goodness was he tired of blushing. “You could have just given me the extra blanket,” he said, trying to keep his speech plain.

                “Body heat better.”

                Unable and unwilling to argue with Aura, Petram focused on chopping vegetables for breakfast. The rhythmic _tok tok tok_ of his knife helped him reset. Cooking was relaxing to him, nearly mindless as he had been doing it since he was small. It was the one time he could turn his mind off and let it sort out other problems while his hands did the work.

                He was told he sang while cooking. While he didn’t know he was doing it, apparently it was a regular occurrence.

                Pouring a mixture of eggs and vegetables into the frying pan, Petram glanced over at Aura. The young man’s sharp gaze melted into soft, dreamy eyes. He tilted his head, smiling.

                “Pretty,” he said.”

                “W—” Petram cleared his throat “—what is?”

                “You.”

                The heat in Petram’s cheeks quickly engulfed his entire body. “W-w-why, why, why do you say that?” His voice cracked and his hands quaked as he prepared their meal. His gaze flicked toward the tents, silently praying for someone to join them.

                “Because you pretty one,” Aura stated, crossing his arms matter-of-factly. He stuck his chin out, a wholly satisfied, smug grin on his face.

                Petram stuttered, mouth agape. “How is it that you can even talk?” he finally squeaked.

                “I learn,” Aura replied with a shrug.

                “Clearly. But yesterday you couldn’t even understand me,” said Petram, eyes on the contents of his frying pan. He focused on what he was doing, desperately trying to smother the blush in his cheeks.

                “I learn,” Aura repeated. “Where Cori?”

                “Still sleeping, I believe,” answered Petram, serving up an omelet for Aura. “I’ll go wake her, you eat.”

                “Food!”

                “Yes, food.”

                Watching Aura dig in, Petram resisted the urge to ruffle his hair. Shaking his head, he excused himself to wake the others. They would be having a late start, but they did need a _start_. Despite the personal tribulations of yesterday, they were here to complete an assignment. The Crown and Council were relying on them to survey this district of Gralea. They seemed to have lost sight of that goal.

                Pausing before Corrianna’s tent, Petram frowned. From inside, he could distinctly ear not one, but _two_ people snoring. A little unusual, but given recent events, he wasn’t surprised. Russ probably felt compelled to comfort his friend and simply fell asleep after a long conversation. From what he understood, such behavior was not uncommon for Clarus.

                Clearing his throat, he called out to the pair. “Highness? It’s time to rise. I’ve prepared breakfast.” Petram waited a few seconds but there were no sounds of stirring from inside the tent. He raised his voice and called again.

                Petram was not prepared for the explosion of noise and cursing from within. Eyes wide, he glanced back at Aura, who was still eating happily. Turning his attention back to the tent, he gawked at the zipper of the flap.

                “Is everything alright?” he eventually asked when the swearing subsided into sharp, unintelligible whispers.

                “Yup!” squeaked Cori before clearing her throat. “Yup, all good. I’ll be out shortly. Thanks!”

                “Do hurry. Aura is asking after you.” Frowning, Petram stared at the tent flap.

                “Sure thing. Thanks!” she repeated. Though she didn’t speak the words, her ton very clearly said _go away_.

                “Of course.” Arching a brow, Petram slowly turned away from the tent. He’d have to pay attention to the pair when they emerged. Forcing the confusion from his face, he returned his focus to their guest.

                Aura wore a bright, wide-eyed eagerness on his face as he held out his plate. “More?”

                “I suppose I could make you another. Though you shouldn’t eat too much, else you’ll get fat.”

                Aura tilted his head. “Fat?”

                Puffing up his cheeks, Petram curved his arms out at his sides. “Fat.”

                “Round!” Aura chirped in understanding.

                “Exactly.” Chuckling, Petram shook his head. Halfway back to his work station, he paused. He ought to rouse his sister as well, though he was dreading her attitude after yesterday. Sighing to himself, he turned and walked down the line of tents to the last one of the group.

                “Mina?” he called.

                “Yeah?” a soft voice croaked from inside.

                “Breakfast is ready.”

                “I’ll be out soon.”

                “Okay.” Hesitating briefly, Petram left his sister alone. He wanted to go inside, sit down with her and have a nice, long chat. He didn’t want to see her hurting. Despite the truth in Corrianna’s words, he never wanted to see his sister suffer.”

                Aura was a good distraction, however.

                “So,” Petram began, getting to work on another serving for the blond, “can you tell me who you are?”

                “I’m Aura!” he declared proudly.

                Petram smiled. “That you are, my friend. But where did you come from? Why are you here?”

                Twisting his mouth to one side, Aura considered the questions. “I came to above-place to find pretty throat-sounds!”

                Furrowing his brow, Petram adjusted his glasses. “Above-place? You were somewhere underground? And you could hear us?”

                “Through the little box,” Aura confirmed with a nod.

                “Little box…? Oh! You must mean a radio. You have a radio?”

                “In my room. Wanna see?”

                “I would love to see. How about we all go after breakfast?”

                Aura’s face lit up and he launched from his seat to latch his arms around Petram’s waist.

                A startled laugh rushed from Petram’s lungs. “Are you really so happy for us to see where you live?” he asked, hooking one arm around Aura’s shoulders. He hugged the blond against his side, a little unnerved by how natural and comfortable it felt. Very few people were allowed so close to him, and even fewer he was entirely comfortable with. And only three of them knew his reasons.

                “Yeah!”

                Shaking his head, a grin on his lips, Petram lifted his head, glancing toward the tents. He had to do a double-take when he saw Corrianna duck out of her tent and practically sprint toward the showers, followed by Russ none-too-subtly hurry to his own tent.

                Pretending he didn’t notice, Petram quickly turned back to Aura’s breakfast. The blond was hugging him tightly, watching his food cook with laser-like focus. The intensity in his eyes was enough to frighten most people.

                “It won’t cook any faster with you staring at it, pipsqueak.”

                Head snapping up, Aura turned to see Germina sauntering toward them. “Germ!” he chirped.

                The woman stopped short, raising her eyebrows and glancing at her brother.

                “He’s an intriguing one,” was all Petram could say.

                “No shit.”

                Serving up Aura’ second helping, Petram started on his sister’s. “Alright?” he asked, noticing her puffy red eyes.

                “Later, Petey,” she said, stepping up next to Aura. “Where’s Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dumb?”

                Though the nicknames were rather rude, they also sounded somewhat affectionate. Petram quirked a brow. “If you mean Clarus and Corrianna—?”

                “Well, I certainly don’t mean the dads.” Germina watched Aura eat for a moment, closed her eyes, sighed, and started combing his hair back from his face with her fingers. Gathering up a few sections, she started to braid.

                Petram watched, mouth agape.

                When Germina looked up from twisting Aura’s hair together, she scowled at her brother. “What?”

                “Ah! Well, it’s rather strange seeing you do something so affectionate.”

                “Affection has nothing to do with it, brat. The kid can’t see through this mop of his,” she grumbled back. “Now pay attention to what you’re doing. I don’t want my food burned.”

                “O-of course.” Shaking his head, he focused on the omelet frying in the pan. As he slid it out onto a plate and got the next one going, he decided he didn’t care for this confusion and befuddlement nipping at him over the last twenty-four hours. He honestly felt he was the only one of them who was still the same person now as when they first arrived.

                A heavy whack between his shoulders knocked him from his thoughts.

                “What’s fer breakfast, Pete? Smells good,” Clarus greeted, leaning over his shoulder and reaching for the plated omelet.

                “That one’s mine, puppy,” Germina growled without even taking her eyes off Aura’s hair.

                Russ’ hand snapped back. “My bad.”

                “I’ll have one ready for you momentarily. I see you tended to your injuries?”

                “Yeah, Cori hooked me up with a potion. But enough about that. It’s a new day and we’ve got a lot to do. How’s Aura today? You guys sleep well?”

                “Aura want more!” the man declared, holding up his empty plate.

                “Two is enough. You don’t want to get sick,” Petram scolded, taking his plate and putting it in a basin to be washed later.

                “Uhh…am I hallucinating? Did Germ give me brain damage, or did Aura just _talk_?”

                “You had brain damage before I came along, bud.”

                “Yes, Aura can speak. A skill he seems to have developed overnight,” replied Petram.

                “How?”

                “I assume whoever created him equipped him with some sort of language recognition,” Petram offered.

                “Honestly, at this point, I’m willing to believe almost anything,” sighed Russ, flopping down on a supply crate.

                Nose wrinkled up and arms cross, Aura pouted at Petram. He didn’t even acknowledge Germina patting him on the head when she finished styling his hair.

                “He must really like your cooking to get that reaction,” Russ chuckled, rubbing a hand over his stubbly jaw.

                “Everyone likes Petey’s cooking,” said Germina, grabbing her plate and sitting on another crate.

                “T-they’re just omelets,” mumbled Petram, cheeks coloring at the attention.

                “You can have more later, okay?” Russ told Aura, accepting his serving from Petram.

                Still pouting, Aura finally acknowledged Russ. “Okay,” he conceded.

                “Once Corrianna eats, we’ll go see your room,” Petram told Aura with a smile.

                The young man brightened at the reminder.

                Scoffing, Germina smirked around her fork, but quickly stifled it. “Such a kid.”

                “Well, in a manner of speaking, he kind of is, right?” Corrianna commented, finally joining the group. Her hair fell in damp curls over her shoulders, leaving dark patches on her jacket.

                “Cold?” Germina asked, eyeing the turned-up collar and long sleeves.

                “I’m always cold after getting out of the shower,” Cori replied, turning toward Aura. “I hear you were asking for me?”

                Instead of leaping up to hug Cori as everyone expected, Aura looked at her and tilted his head. He studied her long and hard, watching color rise in her cheeks.

                “Cori different,” he finally said.

                Corrianna’s jaw dropped. Not because of his words, but because he _spoke_ , and he sounded like Petram. She stuttered out a few syllables in question, looking at the others.

                “Get with the program, Princess. Prompto-lite can speak now,” drawled Germina.

                “What? _How?_ And why does he sound like you?” she demanded of Petram.

                “Likely because I’ve spent more time speaking to him, so he patterned his speech after mine,” Petram replied, a slight quirk of his brow.

                Aura was up now, studying Russ where he sat.

                “Did you parents not tell you anything about this sort of thing happening?” Russ asked, blinking at Aura as the blond leaned in and stared at him.

                “That he would suddenly gain the ability to speak? No, they glossed over that part,” she spat back.

                “Russ different, too!” Aura declared, shooting a wide-eyed look at Petram.

                “Different how?” he asked.

                Aura’s freckled nose wrinkled up in frustration. “Just…different!”

                “I don’t think he’s got much of a vocabulary,” said Germina.

                “Give it time. Is it good or bad?” Petram now asked, wondering if Aura was somehow able to detect physiological changes such as illness.

                The blond scowled at Petram. “Don’t know. Just different.”

                “Maybe he can sense magic energy?” offered Russ.

                “That is possible, I suppose,” agreed Petram.

                “But I’ve always got magic flowing through me,” said Cori.

                “Maybe so, but you summoned a God last night, Highness.”

                Cori raised her brows. “I did?”

                “You don’t remember?” Russ asked between mouthfuls.

                “I…I have a habit of blanking when I’m really mad.”

                “Cori was scary!” Aura told them.

                “Sorry, Aura. I’ll try not to scare you again. Oh! Did Germina braid your hair? It’s so pretty!” Smiling at him, she ran her fingers over the neat queue.

                “Pete pretty,” Aura stated matter-of-factly.

                A wall of heat slammed into Petram and he pretended not to notice everyone looking at him as he prayed his face wasn’t bright red.

                Germina snorted, grinning.

                Corrianna blinked at Petram, eyes wide.

                “Sounds like you have a fan, Pete,” Russ teased. “What did you two get up to last night?”

                “Certainly not what you’re implying!” squeaked Petram, clearing his throat after his voice cracked.

                “Red is a good color on you, bro.”

                “Honestly!” Turning to serve up the last of the morning meal, Petram saw Aura staring up at him. The blond reached up, cupping his flushed cheeks.

                “Pete warm. Sick?”

                Petram was sure his heart would break his ribs it was beating so hard. “N-no. No, I’m quite alright,” he breathed, stepping back from Aurarum. “Can we _please_ finish breakfast and get on with the day?”

                “I think you hurt his feelings, Petram,” Corrianna scolded lightly, seeing the pout back on the blond’s face.

                Petram paled and muttered an apology. He quickly finished serving breakfast and excused himself.

                “Uh-oh,” muttered Russ, watching the man leave.

                “Don’t worry about it,” said Germina, waving away Russ’ concern and getting to her feet. “Petey is as awkward as they come. He doesn’t know how to deal with attention.”

                “Pete sad?” Aura asked, looking to Germina for an answer.

                The woman winked at him. “Not at all, Goldilocks. He’ll come around.” Tweaking Aura’s nose, Germina turned toward Russ and held out her hand.

                Brows twitching, he looked up at her, then glanced toward Corrianna.

                “I’m offering a handshake, numb nuts,” the woman growled.

                “Why…?”

                “This is as close to an apology as you’re getting,” she hissed.

                Russ scoffed, sticking out his own hand. “You know you aren't supposed ta threaten someone yer apologizing to, yeah?”

                Germina took his hand and gave it a firm squeeze. At the same time, she leaned in to whisper to him. “Take good care of her, pup. She only deserves the best. And if you make her cry for any reason, I _will_ end you.”

                Russ gawked up at her.

                “I still don’t like you, though,” she reiterated, straightening up and releasing his hand. “Show me you’re capable.”

                Russ’ mouth hung agape as Germina followed her brother.

                “What on Eos was that about?” Corrianna asked, sitting on the opposite side of the small area.

                Russ breathed out a sigh. “I…” He shrugged and shook his head.

                Aura sat down next to Cori and leaned on her. He was too tall to put his head on her shoulder, so he settled on wrapping his arms around her.

                “You are surprisingly affectionate,” she told him.

                “Cori family,” he stated simply.

                “What?” Her head snapped toward him. There was no way he could feel that way after a single day.

                Softly, like he had when they first met, he touched the freckles dusting her cheeks and nose. His hand then fell to her chest, to rest above her heart. “Same blood. Family.”

                “But…how do you know that?”

                “Aura feel things…know things. Aura knows.”

                “You’re pretty amazing, Aura,” Russ said.

                “No, Pete pretty!”

                Grinning, Russ shook his head. “I’m sure he’s happy you think so.”

                The blond beamed.


	20. Chapter 20

                Empty city buildings loomed over the equally empty streets. Sounds of nature were few, and the crunch of boots on ruble echoed noisily. The day was off to a delayed, bizarre start. Aura was leading them into who-knew-what, and they were all tense.

                Hands in his pockets, Russ lingered at the back of the group, observing both his friends and his surroundings. Honestly, he was a little distracted. Remembering what he and Cori did last night turned his face red. He was ashamed with himself on a variety of levels. Admittedly, he was no longer entirely opposed to intimate physical contact, but only with Cori. But he certainly wasn’t keen on doing it again any time soon. Sure, it felt good in the moment, but all the befores and afters didn’t sit well with him.

                _Especially_ the afters. This morning had been a nightmare. They slept a few short hours, tangled together. Russ couldn’t remember sleeping so hard in his life. But he was rudely awoken by an elbow to his gut and hissed cursing. Rubbing his eyes as he sat up, he saw someone’s shadow outside the tent and whispered back to ask what was wrong. He couldn’t remember much of what she said after muttering something about getting pregnant. His brain blanked and he stared, slack-jawed until she was rushing off to the showers. He then made a quick escape to his own tent to change his clothes.

                Russ did what he could to clean himself up with sanitizer wipes, but he would have loved a shower as well. He still felt kinda dirty.

                Scratching the back of his neck, he let out a sigh. He didn’t know what to think about the slew of developments over the last twenty-four hours. Aura’s miracle speech and comprehension, Petram’s bashful behavior, Germina’s complete one-eighty…well, ninety-degree turn. Literally everything changed overnight.

                Aura seemed most cheerful among them, bouncing between Petram and Cori. The newest member of their group was an entertaining distraction at least. And despite being a complete enigma, he fit right in. But they were learning about him slowly as they spent time with him. Last night they learned a very important tidbit when he stopped Germina’s attack. But there were still plenty of questions surrounding the Prompto Argentum clone. Though Russ didn’t really care if they ever learned where he came from. He liked Aura and was much more interested in finding out who he would become from here.

                Corrianna’s bright laugh brought Russ out of his thoughts. He looked up to see the others grinning at Petram while he flushed red all the way to his ears. Having weaved together a knot of pretty wildflowers and placed it in Petram’s hair, Aura beamed at him.

                “Nice color!” Aura declared, walking so close to Petram, their shoulders bumped.

                “Are you talking about his face, or the flowers?” teased Germina, turning to walk backward.

                Aura thought for a moment. “Both,” he stated with a nod.

                “Both?”

                “Both.”

                Germina grinned, and for a moment, she looked absolutely carefree. When she met Russ’ gaze, her expression slipped, and she turned around.

                Russ flinched. Scrubbing a hand through his hair, he let out a heavy sigh. He’d rather take on an entire pack of Behemoths than to go against her. Her boiling hatred toward him still made no sense, nor did her sudden shift into this new version of herself. He wanted to ask someone what was going on, wanted to know why she was singling him out, but he knew it wouldn’t get him anywhere.

                “Here, here!”

                Aura ran ahead of them, pointing excitedly at a large square building. The plain white structure displayed no signage, no decoration, no indication at all what was inside. A massive wooden double door was set in the center of the ground floor and shuttered windows lined the walls. Four floors of obvious subtlety. Whoever built this, built it specifically to blend in.

                “This is where you live?” Corrianna asked, brows raised as she tilted her head to look at the upper floors.

                “Below. Need to go inside,” Aura replied, grabbing her hand and tugging her forward.

                “Is it safe?” Corrianna glanced at him when they reached the door. Her fingers twitched, wanting to summon her weapon.

                Aura twisted his mouth to one side and thought for a moment. “Mostly,” he answered with a nod.

                “Mostly?” Germina crossed her arms and scowled.

                “My room, my halls safe. Aura lock doors to not safe places.”

                “Just…be wary.” Corrianna nodded to Aura, who pulled open the double doors.

                Sunlight spilled into a tidy lobby, illuminating a reception desk and a group of chairs. Behind the desk was a single nondescript door, and an inset coat rack took up much of the right-hand side of the room. Dust covered every flat surface in thick grey layers, but that was the only sign of disuse. This place didn’t show the same symptoms of apocalyptic destruction as the other buildings they explored.

                Aura led them through the door to a long hall lined with more doors, all of which stood open. Offices, closets, bathrooms…nothing out of the ordinary. A small, empty room at the end of the hall had a second door in the back corner. Aura opened this door to reveal a shallow landing and a staircase leading down.

                “A boring office building to disguise an underground facility? Really?” drawled Germina, shaking her head.

                “If it works, right?” Russ muttered back.

                The woman scoffed and shrugged one shoulder.

                Concrete stairs took them down a long way to another door that opened into a bleak reception area of sorts.

                “Aura doesn’t use this way most times,” he said, pausing before the door at the back of the reception. “The moving room is scary.”

                Brows arched, Russ and Petram exchanged a glance.

                “Moving room?”

                “There’s another entrance?”

                Aura turned and looked from one man to the other. He nodded. “Yup!” With that answer, he turned back to the door.

                Struggling to restrain her smirk at the boys’ befuddlement, Corrianna pushed the call button on the elevator for Aura. It dinged and lit up. Power still ran through the facility.

                “If the elevator scares you, why didn’t we just use the other way?”

                “Russ no fit,” Aura stated flatly, making the others laugh.

                Russ groaned, scrubbing a hand over his face.

                “Bet you’ve heard that before,” teased Germina, grinning as she slid her hands into her pockets.

                Cheeks heating up behind his hand, Russ lowered his head to try and hide it. He felt eyes on him. Did they know what he and Cori got up to last night? How much noise did they make? Tent walls were not real walls, after all. The heat in his face traveled through the rest of his body and he wanted to shrink away.

                With a sickly, grating screech, the elevator door slid open, drawing everyone’s attention away from Russ. They piled into the tiny car and Corrianna pushed the only other button on the panel. There was no telling where they would come out, or how deep they were going.

                A wonky, warbled ding accompanied the doors sliding open when they reached their destination. Warm yellow light from an overhead lamp illuminated another lobby. This one was less business-formal than the one upstairs, and about half the size. Large filing cabinets took up one wall and a plain desk occupied the other. A computer monitor took up much of the desktop, plus a phone, and a small stack of manila folders.

                “Personnel checkpoint?” Germina wondered out loud, pulling open one of the cabinet drawers.

                “Looks like it, yes,” replied Petram, flipping open a dusty folder to find the profile of a biology specialist.

                “All boring squiggles,” grumbled Aura, tugging Petram away from the desk.

                “Ah, I suppose it makes sense you don’t know how to read,” replied Petram, allowing Aura to pull him to the door at the back of the room.

                “Read?”

                “Understanding the squiggles on the paper. You can learn a lot of valuable things by reading.” Petram adjusted his flowers, wanting to take them out of his hair, but not wanting to upset Aura.

                “Oh. Teach me?” Aura turned pleading periwinkle eyes on Petram, still holding onto his arm.

                “Ah…I-I suppose I could do that. We’ll have to teach you to write as well, then.” Swallowing hard, Petram had to look away from Aura.

                “What is _write_?” Aura questioned.

                “Making the squiggles. C’mon, Sunshine. Let’s get going before you make my brother’s head explode.” Rolling her eyes, Germina steered Aura away from Petram. She opened the door and urged them forward.

                Bringing up the rear, Russ frowned deeply. What the hell was with her? Aura was capable of destroying her, but now she liked him? She was treating him like family, yet she detested Russ for his strength. Why? What had he done wrong? Why was it always _his_ fault?

                Sighing softly to himself, Russ made sure to hang back from the rest of the group. Yesterday Germina was the odd one out, and today it was him. Not that it wasn’t any different from the rest of his life. After all, he _was_ the odd man out. Always had been, probably always would be. Didn’t matter that his mom was Iris Amicitia. Didn’t matter that Uncle G trained him personally. Didn’t matter he was the only one who could calm Cori and prevent the Stormsender’s wrath. None of that ever really mattered. Russ knew he didn’t belong out here on official Crown business. He belonged back home in Insomnia, in his Ma’s garage, fixing cars and tech.

                “Stop feelin’ sorry for yerself, idiot,” he mumbled with a sharp shake of his head. Licking his lips, he lifted his head and watched Cori from afar. She was smiling, helping Aura tease Petram as they walked down a long corridor of locked doors. The not-safe rooms, maybe? Aura didn’t pay them any attention, so neither did anyone else.

                Lifting his hand to fiddle with his pendant, Russ shook his head. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a shadow. Feeling the tingle of the Armiger in his fingertips, he turned to see what was tailing them. He relaxed when he saw it was the little lilac tonberry.

                “And where did you disappear to?” he asked, stopping to crouch before the daemon. It stared at him a moment before plodding toward him and lifting its arms. It held its odd mitten-shaped hands wide, like a child asking to be picked up. Smirking, Russ scooped up the beastie and put it on his shoulder. It closed its beady yellow eyes, content with its new perch.

                Chuckling to himself, Russ got back to his feet and hurried to catch up with the others. They didn’t even seem to notice he was gone. No surprise there. They were too busy with Aura.

                The blond was grinning ear-to-ear, glued to Petram’s hip as he steered them toward their destination. Occasionally, his freckled nose would wrinkle up as he tried to explain something he didn’t quite have the words for. He would frown, try to gesture until someone deciphered his story, then continue. Russ had no idea what he was talking about, but it couldn’t have been too important. Germina wasn’t paying attention, instead taking in the dull corridors with sharp eyes. She would peel into the occasional open door or scan the faded posters on walls. Russ assumed by the graphics on the posters they were safety notices or warnings.

                The further they trekked into the facility and its maze of halls, the more this looked like photos Russ had seen of other Nif facilities. Pipes and valves lined walls, doors were marked with colored numbers and keypads, everything was narrow and claustrophobic. Even with the lights on, things stayed dark, deep shadows obscuring corners.

                Aura moved through the creepy corridors with confidence and without fear. Eventually, they reached an unmarked door with a keypad on the wall. Aura pushed a button and the door’s mechanics whirred as it opened, sliding back into the wall.

                With a proud grin exposing his teeth, Aura extended his arm toward the room. His room.

                So much of Aura’s personality came clear as they entered the room. What was once a plain bunk room for the employees of this facility, had undergone a complete makeover under Aura’s care. Two of the four beds were pushed against the far wall, piled with a variety of clothing, pillows, and blankets of all colors. The walls, once bland grey concrete, was no painted bright colors in beautiful murals. Toys littered the floor, everything from coloring books to building blocks, action figures, and stuffed animals.  Mixed in with the children’s toys were the distinct pieces of firearms in varying states of assembly.

                The pungent stink of mildew, unwashed clothes, and paint filled the room.

                “Wow…Bet those Nif bastards are rolling in their graves,” Germina commented, picking a doll in a pretty checkered dress up off one of the beds.

                “Did you paint these?” Corrianna asked, admiring a fantastical mural of a coeurl kitten playing with a cactuar. The colors were bright and incorrect, but the detail was outstanding.

                Biting his lip, Aura nodded eagerly.

                Russ and the tonberry hung back in the doorway. The room was an impressive sight, to be sure. Corrianna snapped pictures of the murals to send to her parents. Petram and Germina frowned at the pieces of various guns mixed with colored blocks. Russ was unsettled by the mix of childish visions and adult war.

                “Aura, where did you get those guns?” Russ asked, drawing everyone’s attention. The tonberry shimmied off his shoulder and plodded across the room to sit at Germina’s feet.

                “Guns?” he asked, tilting his head.

                Russ pointed to the pieces of metal. “Those. Those are weapons. They’re dangerous and they hurt people.”

                Aura brought his hands up to his chest, brow drawn. He understood those words perfectly. “Aura bad?”

                “No, Aura isn’t bad,” Russ clarified, voice soft. “The guns are bad.”

                “But Aura only play with them. Take them apart, put them together. No hurt,” he told Russ, worry contorting his features.

                “Leave him alone, Russ. He doesn’t know what a weapon even is,” Corrianna scolded with a shake of her head.

                “It seems he treats them like puzzles,” added Petram.

                “But it still means the facility has an armory, right?” asked Russ, sighing.

                “Probably a room we should check out,” Germina agreed, crossing her arms.

                “We need to check out the entire facility!” Corrianna told them. “But you guys are freaking Aura out.”

                The young man went to sit on his bed, pulling his feet up onto the mattress and frowning. “Aura not want to hurt anyone.”

                Puffing out a breath, Petram sat down next to Aura. “You haven’t hurt anyone. Don’t fret, alright?”

                “Aura not touch guns anymore.”

                “You know what?” Corrianna piped up, smiling at Aura. “I know just the guy to train you how to use them safely, okay? You won’t hurt anyone, and you won’t be scared of them.”

                “Train?”

                “Teach. He’ll show you how to be safe with them.” Squatting before Aura, Corrianna put her hand on his knee and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Does that sound good?”

                Aura nodded, still pouting.

                “Your room is amazing, Aura. I’m happy you showed me,” Petram told the blond to cheer him up and distract him from the guns. It worked like a charm. Aurarum directed a blinding smile at him before leaning over to rest his head on Petram’s shoulder.

                “Oof,” snickered Germina, seeing the look on her brother’s face. He shot her an entirely unconvincing glare but didn’t say anything.

                “So!” Corrianna patted Aura’s leg and stood. “I’m curious to learn more about this place. Can we explore a bit, Aura? Is that okay with you?”

                Eyes wide, Aura jumped up and hopped over to the trunk at the foot of the bed. He flung open the lid and riffled through the contents. Finding what he was looking for, he closed the lid, sprang to his feet, and held out a handful of color-coded cards. Key cards.

                “Oh!” Corrianna’s face brightened. “That’s perfect, Aura! Thank you!” Taking the cards, she stretched up on her toes and kissed his cheek, leaving him wide-eyed and blushing.

                Aura touched his warm face. “What Cori do?” he demanded.

                “She kissed you,” Russ answered, smirking.

                “Kissed?”

                “Ask Pete to explain it,” Germina suggested, bending down to scoop up the tonberry.

                “Pete! What _kissed_?”

                Sputtering and overheated, Petram struggled to find his words as Corrianna, Russ, and Germina laughed their way out of the room.


	21. Chapter 21

                Russ trudged off down the hall in one direction, leaving the other direction for Germina and Corrianna. A cool disinterest settled on the princess’ face. An expression she only wore during times of great emotional distress.

                The tonberry grabbed the braid behind Germina’s ear and whipped it like the reins on a chocobo. Adjusting her glasses, she glanced at the little critter and raised a brow. It huffed in her ear. Rolling her eyes, Germina followed Corrianna. She slid her hands into her pockets, falling into step beside the other woman. Slowing her pace to keep with her shorter strides, she couldn’t help but recall more than one stroll through the park. Germina always loved teasing Cori about her height but decided she was in enough hot water already.

                Corrianna stopped in the middle of the hall, looking down at the key cards in her hand.

                Germina took a few steps before turning to face her. She tried to keep her expression neutral and her stance casual.

                Turning her flat eyes on Germina, Corrianna blinked and licked her lips. “Just talk, Germ.”

                “About?”

                Pinching the bridge of her nose, she squeezed her eyes shut. “I know you have something you want to say, so just spit it out.”

                Germina lowered her head and sniffed. “You’re right, I do have something to say. But you won’t want to hear it, and I’m not ready to deal with it. So let’s check this place out, yeah?”

                The tonberry tugged her braid again.

                Corrianna’s nostrils flared. “Look, after what you did yesterday, I’m not exactly comfortable being alone with you. But it’s better than the alternatives. So, either get it off your chest now or stay away from me unless it’s work related.”

                Hands clenching in her pockets, Germina dipped her head in a nod. She couldn’t even be angry about Cori’s decision. This was her own doing, after all, and it was too late to apologize.

                Swallowing hard, Cori turned away and nodded. Selecting a key card, she let them into a room. At first glance, there was no determining what went on here. A bank of dead terminals lined one wall, a desk with a computer on another, and a bookshelf on the third.  This was likely one of many research stations, but what were they researching?

                Germina selected a book at random from the shelf and came up with a mildewy volume detailing encounters with humanoid-type daemons. Shaking her head, she put it back and picked another book. This one was a thick tome about human anatomy.

                “Anything useful?”

                “Typical stuff. Research about daemons and humans,” Germina answered, scanning the spines of other books.

                Corrianna stepped up beside her to snap pictures.

                Crossing her arms, Germina puffed out a breath and glanced down at Corrianna. She didn’t like this distance between them. She didn’t like the explosion of jealousy that put her in this situation, and she really didn’t like the new emotions sitting heavy in her chest after the very long conversation she had with her parents last night.

                A wide yawn made Germina’s eyes water.

                “Did you sleep last night?” Corrianna asked quietly.

                “I’m fine,” Germina replied, heading back into the hall.

                “That’s not what I asked.”

                “Does it matter?”

                With a sharp huff, Corrianna grabbed Germina’s arm. “Course it matters, Germ! I—” she paused, grumbling. “I don’t know how to do this. I should be professional, but I think we all know how capable I am of _that_. I just want to shut myself off and work, but I _can’t_. I…I c—I can’t.” Tears brimmed her eyes and a deep furrow marred her brows.

                “Corrianna.”

                The woman looked up at her, a dozen different emotions in her eyes.

                “You’re crumbling. You know how to deal with this. You know how to control it, remember?” Germina stated, staring down at Cori. “You’re better than this.”

                “Am I really?” she muttered, taking a deep breath.

                “Yes, you are. Regardless of my shit, regardless of Russ’ shit.”

                Closing her eyes, Corrianna focused on her breathing. It had been so long since she had to center herself like this. She thought she was over these anxiety attacks. She thought she was done having Germina coax her through them. Clenching her fists, she remembered all the times Germina held her hands, talking her down and teaching her how to focus.

                Exhaling slowly, she opened her eyes again and her calm returned. Her shoulders relaxed, the knot in her chest eased.

                “Better?”

                Corrianna nodded.

                A gentle smile curved Germina’s lips. “Good. Now let’s keep going.” The tonberry on her shoulder nuzzled her neck.

                While she was calm again, she was also conflicted. She was being unfair. She should have stayed behind with Petram and Aura. At least that would have been amusing.

                The women fell into an uncomfortable silence as they resumed their exploration. They only spoke when it was absolutely necessary, which wasn’t often. Germina read books and files while Corrianna took pictures and poked at terminals. This wing of the facility seemed dedicated to research only. Different aspects of biology, anatomy, surgery, medicine, daemonology…The higher the security level, the shadier the research projects. Genetic engineering and programming came up a lot. Both animal and human.

                Germina found correspondence with another Nif facility out in the mountains from a man named Verstael Besithia. Most of the letters spoke of Magitek production. A few briefly mentioned troop clones. One referred to a sample of donor material. She tucked _that_ letter into her pocket.

                A few doors took them into central computer hubs with enormous monitors and server banks. A few blinked sluggishly, but the majority lay dormant. These were the only rooms with evidence of the former inhabitants, and every other door leading out was locked.

                In one of these hubs, the tonberry hopped down from Germina’s shoulder to investigate the puddles of clothes abandoned on the floor. It must have smelled remnants of _Starscourge_ in the cloth, left behind when the unfortunate souls working here turned to daemons.

                Germina strolled around the room, watching their own daemon shuffle about. The odd little tonberry tossed a lab coat away when it didn’t find anything. It examined name tags and pens with its strange yellow eyes but threw each item away when it finished. Even on its featureless, expressionless face, Germina could tell it was frustrated by something.

                “What’s it doing?” Corrianna asked, sliding her phone into her pocket and crossing her arms.

                “Haven’t the foggiest,” Germina replied with a one-shoulder shrug.

                The women stood together, watching the tonberry. Neither of them had seen a live one before their encounter with this one, and nothing they were taught matched this one’s behavior. Tonberries were supposed to be violent killing machines, not cute and pushy like this one seemed to be.

                After a few minutes of searching, the tonberry pulled something out of a lab coat pocket and practically stomped toward a door on the opposite side of the room.

                Glancing at one another, Germina and Corrianna followed.

                Turning, the tonberry held up a key card unlike the ones Aura gave them to explore the facility. It made an odd sound and silently demanded Germina take the card.

                Cautious, she took the key card and raised a brow at Corrianna. She slipped the card through the slot on the keypad and the door opened obediently. The difference from the rest of the halls was stark. Instead of stale, recirculated air, the stench of earth and rot hit them like a wall. The floor had strange black stains, old and chalky-looking. Tendrils of whatever-it-was crept up walls, curling over pipes and valves. It looked like mold.

                Scowling, Germina picked the tonberry up and summoned her weapon. She moved into the hallway, eyes narrow and wary. Corrianna followed suit. This was clearly one of the unsafe areas Aura mentioned, and they needed to clear it out.

                The hall was still and silent, stuffy and eerie. There were no doors. Pipes rattled and clanked on occasion. Massive rusted valves protruded from some of the pipes. The overhead lights were intermittent, flickering and sickly. It seemed unending. Faded red Empire insignias decorated bare patches of wall.

                Turning a corner, the women were met with another narrow corridor, a door, and a set of glowing red eyes in a deep shadow. Germina turned her flashlight on the eyes, revealing leathery red-hued skin and pointed features, long black claws on its hands, emaciated body, and hunched posture. It hissed, charging at them on clawed feet, it’s tail whipping about.

                Germina lunged with her spear and Corrianna slipped behind the daemon, slashing out with her daggers. Footwork was key here, as the space was narrow and dim. The monster was fast and slippery. It tore its own flesh when the tip of Germina’s spear plunged through one of its pointed ears, pinning it to the wall. Black oily blood splattered the wall as it twisted away and dove at Corrianna. The princess warped out of the way as Germina wrenched her spear out of the concrete and spin, planting the blade in the daemon’s back. A flash of steel blurred past Germina’s eye and she saw their little tonberry friend sink a blade into the other daemon’s skull.

                Eyes wide, Germina and Corrianna watched the _Alberich_ -type creature spasm and dissolved into a thick plasmodial ooze. Hopping away, the tonberry flicked gore off its massive knife and tucked it back into one of its burlap sleeves.

                “Is Slayer too obvious a name for it?” Germina asked with a raised brow. “I think we should name it.”

                “Something with a little more subtlety would be good,” Corrianna agreed with a nod.

                Germina eyed the creature, watching as it plodded back toward her, blinked, then returned to its perch on her shoulder.

                “Tantivy,” Germina stated.

                Corrianna snorted. “A very old word, but I suppose it fits. Tivy for short?”

                “Tivy for short.”

                “Good enough. Should we see what it was protecting?”

                “I’ll go first, Highness.”

                Corrianna stepped back to let her proceed. She wasn’t in the mood to argue. Peeking around Germina’s shoulder, she watched the woman use the key card to open the door at the end of the hall. Before she could look at what was on the other side, Germina spun and grabbed her, covering her eyes as she turned her away. She may not have seen the room, but she never wanted to smell anything like that again. Chemicals, meat, mold, sickly-sweet decay, and things she couldn’t identify.

                “Let me go!” she protested, squirming against Germina.

                “You”—Germina swallowed thickly—“you don’t need to see that, Cor. I don’t _want_ you to see that. I don’t want you to have that on your conscience.”

                “You don’t get to decide that.”

                Germina sighed. “Just…Just remember he’s only a phone call away. He’s alright.” Hesitantly, she lowered her hand.

                Corrianna turned to face the woman again, giving her a brief glare. Germina stepped out of the way and Cori looked into the room.

                And her world stopped.


	22. Chapter 22

                With each step he took, Russ was having a harder time not bolting for the exit and finding transport back to Insomnia. Every insecurity he had was vying for attention, and he didn’t have Cori to talk him out of his funk. Not that she would even if she were here; she didn’t want anything to do with him. Sure, she was still talking to him, but her words were colored with impatience and irritation. He really would like to know what he had done wrong. Why did he mess everything up? Even the tonberry abandoned him for Germina.

                Scrubbing a hand through his hair, Russ sighed. The sound echoed back at him and he frowned. Rolling his eyes, he entered a room with no lock, took a brief glance around at what appeared to be a break room of sorts, then left. He wasn’t finding anything interesting down this way. He couldn’t read the Imperial language, and these rooms had so much paper and so many books, it made his head spin. Too bad Petram stayed behind.

                Some doors were broken, some without power, but after Russ covered what he felt was ten miles of corridor, he came to find a level five security door. Thankfully Aura had doubles of the cards, and he was able to take a set of his own.

                Swiping the security card, Russ let himself into the room.

                …Well, this explained where Aura got those guns.

                Wall cabinets and banks of gun racks filled the big square room before him. Everything from pistols to bazookas filled the cabinets with drawers of ammunition below. A few doors stood open, some weapons missing, but most still in place. The people working here didn’t have time to react when they began succumbing to _Starscourge_.

                A low, wet rumble came from somewhere behind the furthest bank of cabinets. Tendrils of black and purple flashed above the tops of the cabinets briefly before dissolving away. The soft _tic tic tic_ of claws on tile floated from the deep shadow.

                Turning his flashlight toward the sound, Russ summoned his greatsword. There wasn’t much room to maneuver in the armory, but he’d make do. Swinging the weapon up onto his shoulder, he waited for the monster to show itself.

                A soft sound, almost a cackle, came from behind the cabinets. Then the rumble again, louder, multiplied. The first daemon rushed him, all claws and teeth. Russ saw a blur of leathery red skin before the monster leaped at his face. He ducked, twisting and swinging his sword at the same time. His blade caught the daemon’s belly, slitting it open from one side to the other. Oily black ooze erupted from the fatal wound, and the monster dissolved into a puddle of the same. Just as an entire pack of the things jumped at him from every angle around the cabinets.

                With a grunt, Russ spun his blade in an arching circle, warding the beasts off for a moment. It was enough time to readjust his footing and see what he was up against. Six more of these pointy-eared nightmares stared him down. Glowing, beady red eyes, sharp gnashing teeth, and the smell of death.

                Leaping backward to put some distance between himself and the daemons, he narrowly avoided losing a chunk of his thigh as one swiped its massive claws at him. An upward swing of his sword removed the offending digits, but not before one daemon slipped behind him. The sharp, stinging burn of fresh cuts blossomed across his back and warm, wet blood seeped into his clothes.

                Shifting one foot, Russ hefted his sword, swinging it in heavy, deadly arcs. One monster lost its head, another its tail.

                Slamming the flat end of the greatsword into the floor, Russ pushed himself up against the grip and used the momentum to vault over a monster. While it was disoriented, he ducked behind a bank of cabinets. It was a bad move on his part, as the remaining daemons came around both sides to attack. He pushed off the cabinet and turned, swinging his greatsword at the same time. The tip caught the cabinet, ripping through the metal with an ear-piercing shriek and a spray of sparks.

                Russ kicked at a daemon behind him, knocking it back and receiving another slice through his clothes and flesh. Angry and in pain, Russ thrust his weapon forward, the flat end catching a daemon and dismembering the thing as he hit the wall. That left three more hissing, snarking monsters vying for his blood.

                Panting, Russ stared down at the hunched creatures. A tense silence stretched between them, only lasting a few seconds yet feeling like an eternity. Blood ran down his back and leg, stinging and itchy. He should radio for help.

                Swinging again, he stumbled, tripping and falling. He couldn’t keep fighting here with his greatsword. There wasn’t enough room. So, he did the stupidest thing he possibly could and dismissed his weapon.

                Rolling out of the way of an attack, Russ got to his feet and sprinted away from the daemons. While he only had his fists to fight with, he moved much faster this way. He wasn’t as mobile or agile as Petram since he never took lessons from Ignis, and he was too big to move with as much finesse, but he had brute force on his side.

                Grabbing the leathery tail of one daemon, Russ spun on his heel and threw it hard into a bank of cabinets. The crunch of bone and crash of breaking glass were barely audible to him past the rush of blood pounding in his ears.

                Shifting, he crouched low and swept his leg out and off-balanced another daemon. It was quick, however, springing back to its feet and lashing out with its long claws. The razor-sharp tips grazed Russ’ cheek, but he grabbed its boney wrist and twisted. The arm snapped like a twig, but the daemon didn’t even acknowledge the break. Limb hanging limp and awkward at its side, it attacked with its good arm.

                Three against one was not an easy fight, and Russ found himself suffering more injuries than he cared to admit. Close, tight combat was far from his specialty. As he threw punches, broke limbs, tossed the monsters into walls and gun cabinets, his knuckles became raw and bloody. Sweat and blood mixed with dirt, grime, and daemon ooze. Slowly, he wore them down. Their movements grew sluggish, their attacks weak.

                Jaw clenched; Russ grabbed one daemon’s arm as it swiped at him. Shifting his stance wide, he let out a guttural cry and hefted the beast off the floor, swinging it about in an arch like a sack of potatoes. With a wet, dull thud, the body of the daemon slammed into a heavy arms case and the limb tore free.

                Holding the clawed arm like a club as the body of the daemon melted back into the floor, Russ faced off against the last one. His fingers sunk into rough flesh as he gripped the arm. Sweat prickled his skin and his heart beat hard in his chest.

                He swung the arm.

                The daemon leaped toward him.

                Somehow, surprisingly, the claws of the daemon arm sliced long, brutal slashes across the last remaining monster’s gut. It stopped mid-attack, staggering backward and falling over. Both it and the limb still clutched in Russ’ hand turned back into black, greasy stains on the floor.

                Russ stood still for long, silent seconds, breathing hard. Eventually, his adrenaline drained from his system and his shaky, tired legs gave out. Dropping to the floor, he looked around the armory. The destruction he caused was _everywhere_. Gouged walls and ceiling, broken floor tiles, toppled cabinets, shattered glass…The room was a mess.

                Sighing loudly, Russ dropped his gaze to the floor. Drops of blood—his blood—splattered the dust and debris covered tiles. A horrible tightness settled in his chest and his vision turned watery. He swallowed hard, swiping the back of his hand across his eyes. Nostrils flaring and jaw clenched, Russ struggled to stave off the inevitable.

                He couldn’t do it for long.

                As hot tears flowed silently down his face, cutting tracks in the dirt to drip off his chin, Russ locked his blurry stare on his hands. His clothes were in tatters, his knuckles were scraped and scabbed, and his stomach was in knots. He fucked up. That’s all there was to it. He was out of his element on so many levels, and his _bull-in-a-china-shop_ combat methods put everyone in danger. Fighting monsters, fighting daemons…he was okay with that. But he never wanted to fight people. If he kept going like this, he might end up…

                Shaking his head, he wiped his eyes and inhaled a deep breath. Germina was right to say he was dangerous, and that was why he didn’t fight back. He didn’t want to hurt her.

                Russ knew he was soft-hearted. Sensitive, even. His parents raised him to be kind to everyone, and he was. For the most part, anyway. It was a bad combination for a Royal Shield. He tried telling Uncle Gladio and His Majesty, but they refused to take no for an answer. So, because of his friendship with the princess, he took the job. Now he wasn’t even sure he had that friendship to fall back on.

                So, here he sat, surrounded by destruction of his own creation, afraid he may truly be alone now, feeling lower than he ever had.

                Wiping his eyes again, Russ pushed himself to his feet and took stock. His jeans were torn in multiple places, most notably the giant rip across the back of his calf where the daemon’s claws caught him. Both his legs and his pants were stained red with fresh and drying blood. Thankfully that wound wasn’t too deep, but it was oozing a bit. The injury across his back was still actively bleeding, slower than it had been, but he could feel thick drops sliding down his skin and gluing his ruined tee-shirt to his body. The rest of him was covered in bruises and scrapes topped with a coating of grime and sweat.

                Without looking back, without further exploration of the armory, Russ left. He relocked the door and kept walking. He had a hard time not going back to destroy the keypad.

                Body shaking, Russ leaned on the wall. Closing his eyes, he slid to the floor and sobbed. Just sobbed. Squeezing his eyes shut, he lifted his hands and tried several times to remove his pendant with trembling fingers. When he finally unfastened the chain, he balled it up in his palm and stuffed it into his pocket.


	23. Chapter 23

                Corrianna’s lip trembled as she took in the room they opened. An enormous lab with terminals and computers and massive cylindrical tanks lining two of the walls. Twelve tanks in all, eleven still full. Some were cloudy and red, hard to see inside, but others were mostly clear. Bodies suspended in some sort of liquid and connected to wires, floated dead inside the tanks. They were all in varying stages of decay, chunks of skin and muscle sloughing off in the liquid. But they all wore the face of Prompto Argentum.

                The smell was nauseating, but the sight…

                Swallowing the bile rising in her throat, Corrianna took a few small steps into the lab. Two of the tanks showed a cross-hatch of claw marks on their surfaces. The glass didn’t break, but the tanks dislodged from their moorings, sitting haphazardly in bases and cracked away from the seal on top. The broken tank sat on the other end of the room from these. Glass covered the floor, stuck to the clinical white tiles with a greasy residue. Whatever liquid they used to fill the tanks spilled out when the glass broke and dried up over the years, leaving the floor warped and discolored.

                This was where Aura came from. She knew she would find something like this, but it still hurt. It did more than hurt. It left her disgusted, confused, even a little broken. Her chest physically ached. She wanted to hug her dad. She wanted to run, bleach this image from her mind.

                Squeezing her eyes shut, she inhaled a deep, shuddering breath. Biting her lip hard enough to cut the thin skin, she tried to push the image of her dad floating dead in one of those tanks out of her mind. She had a job to do and her break down could wait until she was alone.

                “G—Ger—Ger”—Corrianna clenched her hands into tight fists—“Germina, can you please check the terminals?”

                “Of course, Highness.”

                The formality in the woman’s words gave an air of detachment to the situation. Corrianna silently thanked her, still fighting her urge to flee. Licking the droplets of blood from her lip, she straightened her spine, squared her shoulders and moved into the lab. Keeping her eyes down, she focused on the tanks themselves. They seemed to be simple metal and glass structures, with no screens, no cords or visible wires connecting them to the terminals. They must have been attached to the computers somehow, or they wouldn’t be able to monitor the subjects’ vitals or take care of them at all.

                Corrianna didn’t even attempt to understand the science behind all this, but she had faith that Germina could make sense of the technology.

                “The computers have some life in them,” Germina commented, tapping at the touchpad. “Anything you want me to look for?”

                “Is there a status log for the tanks?” Corrianna asked, joining the woman at the bank of terminals.

                Stooped over the touchpad, Germina typed in a few commands. After a moment, she landed on a menu displaying each tank. _SPECIMEN ONE_ through _SPECIMEN TWELVE_ filled the screen, each link opening a page detailing the status of the tank. Germina cycled through each page, scanning them briefly.

                Corrianna watched, unable to read more than a few words here and there. However, even if she had been unable to read the word _deceased_ , she could have deduced it by the bold red text.

                “Huh.”

                “What?”

                “Tank twelve is the broken one, I’m gonna guess. All the others list the primary status _deceased_ , but Twelve says _Requires Attention_.”

                Both women glanced at the destroyed tank.

                “What else does it say?”

                “Not much, really. All vitals unknown, fluid drained, outside interference detected I'm guessing whatever clawed up those other tanks smashed that one and our little ray of sunshine was _born_.”

                “Does it have a date?”

                “Last recorded auto log was April 18th, 757.”

                Corrianna sighed. “Right at the beginning. Aura has been living alone down here for almost thirty-five years. That…can’t be right. There’s no way he’s that old.”

                “Why not? He’s a genetically engineered human clone. He could be programmed to age slowly.”

                “He’s not a computer, Germ.”

                “You can program genetics, too, love.”

                Corrianna grumbled in her throat. “I mean…I kind of understand, but not entirely. We wouldn’t be standing here if it was impossible tech, right? This stuff is the reason we exist.”

                “Pops did say something about reclaimed Nif tech.” Germina stared at the screen and grunted in disgust, her lip curled. “Gods, how could they take something like this and repurpose it? I’d have destroyed all traces.”

                “But think about how it’s being used now. The exact opposite way the Empire intended, kind of like revenge on their twisted plot.”

                Germina shrugged as she searched through more of the computer’s logs. “I guess. Still doesn’t sit right with me.” Sighing, she stood up straight and crossed her arms. “I’ll stay here and go through the logs; you go back to Aura’s room.”

                Clenching her teeth, Corrianna shook her head. “No. It’s my job to oversee this mission, and that’s what I’ll do.”

                Germina rolled her eyes. “Don’t push yourself, Cor.”

                “I’m not.”

                “Then tell me, Princess; what do you plan to do while hovering about? You don’t enjoy my company any longer, you can’t read Nif, and you can’t even lift your head out of fear of looking at those things. So, by all means, torture yourself further by staying.”

                Nostrils twitching, Corrianna raised her chin defiantly, meeting Germina’s sharp, mismatched gaze. “I’m starting to think you get off on belittling me.”

                “Excuse me?”

                “Isn’t the fact that I’m still standing here proof I can handle myself? I haven’t broken down, I’m not crying or running away. I just want to do my job.”

                “Then do your job. I’m not stopping you, but I do think you’re being a stubborn fool.” Shaking her head, Germina grabbed a toppled chair, righted it, and sat down before the computer. Tantivy hopped down from her shoulder and plodded over to one of the tanks.

                Corrianna licked her lips and exhaled slowly. Maybe she was being stubborn, but she had a lot to prove, and massive shoes to fill. And now she was firmly entrenched between a rock and a hard place. All her secrets were spilling out, and her dreams slipping away.

                Growing up, all she and Mira heard were stories of the Famous Four, their adventures, their camaraderie, their struggles to save Eos. And they saw first hand their lasting relationships, the love and brotherhood between them still strong after so many years.

                That was all Corrianna ever wanted.

                And now it wasn’t something she’d ever have.

                Sighing, Corrianna leaned against the wall and stared at the scuffed toes of her boots. Her career was unraveling before it even began, her personal life was in tatters, and she felt sick forcing herself to stand here surrounded by dead clones of her dad. Her sweet, gentle dad who was so beloved by everyone at home. Who held a deep secret that still haunted him to this day. A secret she was now privy to and wanted to forget, but this room rubbed her nose in it. She was the daughter of a King and a clone. A clone who was meant to be a mindless soldier but escaped his fate thanks to a Lucian. Quite likely the Lucian who was also her namesake. It was all connected. All some sick game played at the expense of the Lucis Caelum line.

                Now that she thought about it, they were all clones in their own right, as well. Grown with a combination of DNA from their parents.

                Rubbing the back of her neck, Corrianna closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them again, Tantivy was staring up at her. It was unnerving, and the first time the creature paid direct attention to her. She raised a brow at the tonberry.

                Somehow the beast’s blank features took on a distinctly irritated quality. It tugged on her pant leg and pointed toward Germina.

                Corrianna’s brow twitched in confusion.

                Tantivy huffed, pointing at the other woman more adamantly and pulling on Corrianna’s pants.

                Shrugging, Corrianna eyed Germina. She had no idea what Tantivy wanted, but she allowed the little critter to lead her to the other woman’s seat. She stood at Germina’s shoulder and watched Tantivy climb back up to its perch on her shoulder. It tugged the braid at her ear.

                “Meddling beast,” grumbled Germina, sighing heavily. Shifting in her seat, she turned her attention to Corrianna.

                The women stared at one another for long, silent, awkward seconds.

                Tantivy whipped Germina’s braid and smacked the back of her head.

                “Okay, okay! I get it, you little bastard.” With another sigh, Germina removed her glasses and rubbed her eyes. Scowling, she set her glasses aside and folded her hands, propping her elbows on her knees. “I know you want to keep conversation work related, but may I speak candidly for a moment, Highness?”

                A long-buried, forgotten twinge of affection gripped Corrianna’s fickle heart. Germina didn’t do _vulnerable_. But she did have this soft, tired, _true_ side that precious few people witnessed. Cori saw it more than anyone.

                Unable to find her voice, she only nodded.

                “I never wanted to get you involved in my problems. All I ever wanted, right from the time we were small, was to take care of you. It was my single-minded goal. When dad told me his duty was to take care of King Noctis, that was all I wanted to do for you. I wanted to be your Shield,” Germina admitted, staring at her hands. Tantivy patted her hair.

                Corrianna wrapped her arms around herself, her hands shaking. “Why are you telling me this now?”

                “Because I’ve decided to rescind my statement about quitting. I”—Germina licked her lips—“If I can’t have the official titled, I’ll have the spirit of it. I still want to protect you.”

                “I…thank you for telling me, but this is too much. I can’t do this conversation right now. I want to set things right between us, I really do, but I can’t,” Corrianna said with a hitch in her voice. She wouldn’t crack. Not now.

                “I know, but I wanted to tell you anyway.”

                Swallowing hard, Corrianna nodded. “Um…”

                “You know I won’t think less of you for leaving,” Germina told her. “I want you safe on the way back though, so take Tivy with you.”

                “The last thing I want right now is to be babied.” Mustering as much defiance as she could, Corrianna stuck her chin out and walked from the room with her head held high. But her bravado only got her so far. She staggered on weak knees, stumbling into a wall. Everything hit her like a punch to the gut and the contents of her stomach made an abrupt evacuation.

                Letting out a pitiful moan, Corrianna stared at the puddle of vomit through watery eyes. She blinked hard, tears rolling down her cheeks. Frustrated, she scrubbed her hands over her face and kicked the wall. Huffing, she spit, trying to get the taste out of her mouth.

                Instead of getting her toes wet, the Gods decided to chuck her head first into the ocean with no life preserver. Her flailing was only making the situation worse.

                Corrianna covered her eyes and took a handful of blind steps before exhaling a calming breath. She hopped in place and shook her arms, trying to dispel energy.

                “Deal with what you can, manage what you can’t,” she told herself. All that was standing in her way was her own fear. And she had a lot to fear. “Don’t dwell, just do.”

                Walking a few more steps, Corrianna stopped, pursed her lips, groaned low in her throat, and turned around. There was one thing she _could_ deal with right now. It wouldn’t be pleasant, but it could be done.

                Before Corrianna got back to the lab, she met Tantivy in the hall. She rolled her eyes. “Did Germina send you after me?”

                Tantivy gave a small shake of its head.

                “Then you came of your own accord?”

                The tonberry didn’t reply, just scampered forward and scaled Corrianna to perch on her shoulder.

                “You are an odd one,” Corrianna muttered to the tonberry as she went back to the lab. Ignoring the tanks, she crossed the room to where Germina sat.

                “This place wasn’t just hiding these clones,” she said without looking up.

                “What do you mean?”

                “The system is also monitoring something called _Alpha Weapon_.”

                “What’s its status?”

                “Dormant.”

                “Son of a bitch.”


	24. Chapter 24

                Petram was used to being the butt of his sister’s jokes, and it was easy enough to shake them off. He’d done it his whole life, after all, and often times it was her twisted way of protecting him. But this time he was a joke to _everyone_ , and the joke came from a very real place. It hurt, but he couldn’t say anything. He just had to deal with the teasing and learn to rein in his reactions. Something rather difficult to achieve when Aura insisted on his blunt affections. Affections that confused him endlessly. Then again, much about Aura confused him.

                After the other abandoned him, and he managed to bumble his way through a very stiff definition of kissing, Petram desperately wished for a moment to himself. He hadn’t been alone since Aura came into their company. For someone who spends much of his time alone normally, it was a bit overwhelming. And though it was little more than a day, it felt so much longer.

                Guilt had a funny way of distorting time, it seemed.

                “Pete not like?”

                Brows twitching, Petram focused on Aura after shaking off his thoughts. “Hm?”

                The blond pouted, dropping his hands and the item he held to his lap.

                Petram sighed softly, closing his eyes momentarily. “Apologies, Aura. What were you showing me?”

                Peeking up at Petram from under his thin brows, Aura considered him for a moment. A bizarre mixture of childish innocence and age-old wisdom and understanding darkened his periwinkle eyes. Lowering his gaze, he gave a small shake of his head and put the item—a small toy of some sort—on the bed beside him.

                “I sorry,” he whispered, crossing his ankles.

                “Whatever for?” Petram shifted, looking directly at the other man, brows furrowed.

                “I upset Pete.”

                “What on Eos makes you think you’ve upset me?” he demanded with a squeak. The slight pitch in his voice made Aura flinch.

                “Pete no smile at Aura. Pete turn red and not talk right and it makes Aura’s belly feel funny,” he said, fiddling with the hem of his too-big shirt.

                Slowly licking his lips and pointedly ignoring part of Aura’s answer, Petram made a small noise in his throat. “You haven’t upset me, Aurarum. Not at all. My reactions are only because I’m confused, unsure how to respond,” he admitted without knowing how much Aura could comprehend. It wasn’t the whole truth, but it was enough.

                “Confused?” He tilted his head, one brow arched.

                Petram’s shoulders rose and fell with a deep breath. “I’m not used to such attention. No one treats me as you do.” Heat crept into his cheeks as he spoke.

                “I not understand.”

                An involuntary nervous chuckle escaped Petram. “Certainly no one other than you has called me pretty before.”

                Aura furrowed his brow and crossed his arms, huffing. “Pete _is_ pretty.”

                Chuckling, he shook his head. “There are plenty of people prettier than I.”

                Aura narrowed his eyes.

                “Surely in your exploration of apartments businesses, you’ve seen photos, images of attractive people?” Petram asked.

                Eyes remaining narrow, Aura tilted his head. “What is _attractive_?”

                Aura’s knowledge of pretty things had to be limited to something as innocent as things he liked looking at, Petram surmised. “Someone who pleases your senses. Though, in this case, mostly just someone you enjoy the appearance of.”

                Aura frowned a moment before sliding off the edge of the bed and moving to his trunk.  He knelt behind it, fully hidden by the open lid. Carefully searching through the contents, he produced whatever it was he was looking for and clutching it protectively against his chest as he joined Petram once again.

                Quirking a brow, Petram eyed what appeared to be the back of an old photograph. The way Aura held it, it must have pictured someone he fancied quite a bit, not that he knew what it meant to fancy someone. Though perhaps this was the reason Aura wasn’t as fearful of them as they would have expected of someone who had never seen other people before.

                “May I see?” he asked gently, holding out his hand.

                Aura’s eyes flicked up to meet Petram’s, a dusting of pink in his cheeks. Licking his lips, he slowly handed the photograph over.

                With a smile for the blond, Petram accepted the picture. Expecting to see some headshot of a model or even a racy photo, his expression fell when he laid eyes on the image. The picture was old, nearly forty years old, in fact, taken outside the Leville Hotel in Altissia. The subjects of the photo were not privy to the fact they were being captured on film, but he had no trouble identifying the intimately familiar faces.

                “May I ask where you found this?”

                “In the fancy rooms. It not safe.”

                Nodding, Petram tried to keep his tone light as he asked his next question, though he almost dreaded the answer. “Which one do you find attractive?”

                As Aura pointed to one of the men in the photo, Petram’s stomach leaped into his throat just as a kaleidoscope of butterflies took up residence inside.

                “This one very pretty.”

                “I’m sure my father would agree with you. This man is named Ignis Scientia-Amicitia. I’m his son.”

                “Ig…nis,” Aura mumbled, taking the photo back from Petram.

                “I’m sure he would be flattered by your opinion, Aura, but I’m curious. Do you see anything else in this photo?”

                Quiet for a moment, holding his bottom lip between his teeth, Aura dipped his head in a tiny nod. His brows drew together in a deep scowl, but he didn’t elaborate further.

                “The man who looks like you, he’s your predecessor. He’s Corrianna’s father,” Petram said softly, “and Ignis is mine.”

                “I not understand!” Aura exclaimed, voice strained with frustration, tears shining in his eyes. “Aura learning too much! I not _understand_!”

                Petram winced, feeling the man’s irritation. It wasn’t that Aura didn’t understand or comprehend, it was almost like he didn’t _want_ to understand. Seeing Prince Prompto was causing him pain.

                “Would you like to see a recent photo of these men? Of Ignis?” he asked, taking his phone from his pocket.

                Still frowning, Aura swiped his hand over his eyes and nodded.

                Finding the newest image he had, he brought it up on his screen and showed Aura. It was a family photo including the Famous Four and their children, Aunty Iris and Cindy, and Russ.

                “Family,” Aura said, looking at the image.

                A word Aura seemed to know right from the start. Petram wasn’t sure why the term stuck with him, or where he learned it, or if it was just an ingrained word, but it was a subject he was familiar with.

                “Yes, this is my family. Yours, too,” Petram replied. He pointed everyone out in the photo, giving their names and explaining their roles and relationships as best he could. Though it took a little time, he managed to explain aging to Aura as well.

                “So, the four men in your photo are these four here, King Noctis, Prince Prompto, Gladiolus, and Ignis,” he finished, pointing at each man in Aura’s photo, then in his.

                Aura’s eyes widened with panic when he got a good look at the scar covering Ignis’ eye. He pointed at it, simultaneously tugging at Petram’s sleeve.

                “An old wound. He’s quite fine, I promise. You can ask him yourself when we go home.”

                “But…this is home.”

                “Yes, it is _your_ home, but _our_ home is very far away from here. We’d like you to come with us when we go. You won’t have to be alone here anymore.”

                Aura nodded stiffly, uncertain.

                “I’ll be with you. So will the others.”

                Silent, Aura stared at the image on Petram’s phone. “Pretty family. But not Aura’s.” There was a thickness to his voice that didn’t sit well with Petram.

                “Why not?”

                “Aura knows things. Knows no family. I not meant to have family.” Holding his photo against his chest, he sniffled.

                “Whatever they put in your head is wrong, Aura. If you weren’t meant to have a family, we wouldn’t be here. I know this is all very confusing, but we’ll help you understand.”

                Drawing his feet up onto the bed, Aura curled in on himself, his heavy braid falling over his shoulder.

                Not sure what he could do to help, Petram put his hand on Aura’s back. It was all he could do not to pull the man into a tight embrace.

 

***

 

                Aura didn’t know what to do. He hurt, but it wasn’t his body. Something inside him ached. So much new information flowed through his mind, he couldn’t focus on any one thing. He was used to just _knowing_ the things he needed to know, but as Pete talked, it felt like doors were being unlocked in his head. Terms, facts, definitions, history, tactics, profiles, dossiers…So much information he couldn’t comprehend. Faces he didn’t know flashed through his thoughts. How could he have all this in his head, yet lacked the ability to read or write?

                How could he know who Noctis was just by seeing his face? And how could he know about the three men with him in the photo as well? But seeing them old…something in his brain was broken. He had two sets of information, and he couldn’t connect them.

                He didn’t understand.

                All Aura wanted was to be happy with his new friends. He didn’t want to go to that scary place when his body acted on its own, when he attacked Germina. He didn’t want everyone to fight with each other. He didn’t want to confuse or hurt Pete. He wanted them to smile and laugh. He wanted the pretty voices back.

                He wanted to kiss Pete.

                That thought shifted the ache inside to something a little different. Something warmer, more pleasant. Something tingly and light. The same thing he felt when Pete was explaining what the word meant, face red, and stumbling over his words. Then when he explained what _attractive_ meant, Aura knew this was the word he should use to describe Pete, but he wasn’t sure why. Why didn’t he think the same of Cori? She was pretty, too. He liked looking at her, after all. She had shiny dark hair, big expressive eyes the same color as his own, and the same spots all over her face. She was pretty, but Aura didn’t think she was attractive.

                He had seen pictures of lots of pretty people. Once he even found a picture book of people doing strange things that made him feel all weird and prickly. But those were fleeting thoughts and experiences. Until he found the old picture on a desk in the fancy rooms. The man with the glasses and tall hair caught his attention immediately. Hours were spent staring at that face, never tiring of the slight upturn to his mouth, the sparkle in his green eyes, the way he held himself, refined yet comfortable. Then one day, a flood of information washed through his mind and he knew who all the men were. He knew the blond who looked like _them_ , was actually a lesser version of _them_ , was stolen and was able to live freely in the world somewhere.

                After learning so much in one flash of memory, he put the photo away and nearly forgot of its existence. Until he met Pete, anyway. His face was so familiar, so similar to one he knew well, yet it was a little off. A little wrong.

                Now he knew why.

                Aura chose to push aside his turbulent thoughts to focus on the heat and weight of Pete’s hand on his back. It was comfortable, but it was making the funny feeling in his belly come back, so he sat up and got off the bed.

                “Are you alright, Aura?”

                Plastering a smile on his face that didn’t quite reach his eyes, he nodded. “We go find Cori and Russ and Mina now?”

                Pete breathed deeply, an odd expression crossing his features. “Sure, let’s.”

                Aura just wanted the funny feeling to go away.


	25. Chapter 25

                After taking off his pendant, Russ closed his eyes for a minute while he recouped his energy. He must have fallen asleep or passed out, because the next thing he knew, the cool, refreshing magic of a potion vial coursed through him.

                “Don’t waste another one of those on me,” he muttered, waving his hand.

                “It’s hardly a waste when you look to be on Death’s door, you nitwit. What happened?”

                Opening his eyes, he looked into the faces of Aura and Petram. Worry and fear in varying degrees contorted their features. “The locals weren’t happy to see me,” he replied. “Don’t worry about it.”

                “Why didn’t you call for help?”

                “I took care of it.”

                Petram’s eyes narrowed behind his glasses and his mouth set in a thin, pinched line. “Clarus, now is not the time to be a pig-headed fool. I don’t care how strong you are, even you need help sometimes! For the love of Ramuh’s beard, you three are made for each other!”

                “The hell is that supposed to mean?” Russ shot back, practically shoving him out of the way to stand.

                “All three of you are so stubborn, so self-absorbed, you can’t see past the end of your own nose! I am so sick of watching this bizarre love triangle unfold. None of you seem to understand how your behavior affects those around you!” he shouted, glaring up at Clarus.

                Bristled, Russ crossed his arms and took a step forward. “What the fuck are you talking about? Love triangle? Please. Those two can keep each other. I’m better off alone anyway.”

                Nostrils flaring, Petram’s chest expanded with shallow, rapid breaths. The warmth in his amber eyes cooled as he clenched his fists at his sides. “Then perhaps I’ll just leave you here to feel sorry for yourself? Is that what you want?”

                With a tight twitch of a shrug, Russ eyed Petram. “Maybe it is. Maybe that was all I ever wanted. For everyone to leave me the fuck alone!”

                Visibly trembling, Petram swallowed hard. Something flashed through his eyes before he drew his fist back and landed a solid blow to Russ’ jaw. Shaking out the throb in his hand, he felt Aura tugging at him. Of course, he had no intention of actually fighting Clarus, but it seemed a blow to the head was all he understood.

                Rubbing his jaw, Russ kept his gaze on the floor, unspeaking.

                “I don’t like that it came to this, Clarus. Really, I don’t. However, you can’t seem to pull your head out of your ass long enough to see what’s going on around you. This is not about you. This is not about Corrianna, Germina, or even myself. We’re here to investigate the Empire and keep Insomnia safe, remember? We’re meant to work together to achieve this goal. I can’t keep chasing after everyone, trying to maintain this tenuous façade of professionalism,” Petram said, trailing off into a mutter.

                “So says the man who blushes every time a certain someone looks in his direction,” Russ replied softly, without heat.

                Petram cleared his throat. “I promise you, I’d rather not. But I haven’t let it get in the way of my duties.”

                “Much.”

                Eyes wide, Petram opened his mouth to protest but realized there was nothing _to_ protest. Closing his mouth, he sighed.

                Dropping his hand, Russ winced. “We’re a pretty sad lot, hey?”

                “That we are.”

                As Aura clutched Petram’s sleeve, glancing between the pair, eyes wide with fear, Russ chuckled softly. It escalated into a full laugh, which spread to Petram. The tension between them dissolved and Aura’s fear turned to confusion.

                When the laughter subsided, Petram reached out to brush his fingertips over the bruise forming on Russ’ jaw. “I do apologize for this. Does it hurt too much?”

                Russ scoffed. “Nah, I’m alright. The thought of facing Cori is way worse than any punch to the face.”

                Raising a brow, Petram shifted his weight onto one leg and crossed his arms. “Then perhaps I need to work on my hook.”

                Grinning, Russ ruffled Petram’s hair.

                “No!”

                Startled by the shout, Russ and Petram turned their attention to Aura.

                “No touch!” Grabbing Petram’s arm, Aura pulled him away from Russ. His brows knit in a deep frown and his cheeks glowed red.

                Russ stepped back, eyes wide and hands up.

                “No touch Pete,” the blond mumbled, his bottom lip protruding in a pout.

                “It’s alright, Aura. He’s not going to hurt me,” Petram reassured Aura, putting his hand over the blond’s.

                “I’m not sure that’s what he’s worried about.”

                Ignoring Russ, Petram moved his hand up to cup Aura’s cheek and turn his attention his way. Reluctantly, Aura faced Petram and released his arm.

                “Aura, you can’t do that, okay? I know you’re worried, but Russ is no threat, understand? Remember what I said about the things in your head?”

                “It not that,” Aura protested weakly.

                “What do you mean?”

                “I…not know.”

                “Leave the kid alone, Pete. He’s learning a lot of new stuff today. He’ll get the hand of being human in no time.” Stepping up behind Aura, Russ put a heavy hand on top of his head. “It’s confusing stuff!”

                Aura nodded timidly.

                “How are you so astute where others are concerned yet cannot figure out your own problems?” sighed Petram, shaking his head.

                “You dropped your flowers, Pete.”

                “And you lost your necklace.”

                Aura stooped down to pick up the knot of colorful petals. He rearranged the plants and handed it back to Pete. The man thread the stems into a buttonhole of his jacket, feeling much better with the new location.

                “Russ, your necklace?”

                “I didn’t lose it; I took it off.”

                “Why?”

                “I haven’t earned the right to wear such an iconic piece. When I’ve done something to honor the _Steel Flower of Insomnia_ , I’ll put it back on.”

                Petram rolled his eyes. “Don’t be so melodramatic.”

                Russ’ retort died on his lips as he felt something tug his sleeve. He glanced down to find Aura standing close, head down, nearly leaning against him. “What’s up, Aura?”

                “I sorry,” he muttered, bumping his forehead against Russ’ bicep.

                “Don’t be silly. I’m not mad, and you don’t understand all these new emotions,” Russ replied, hooking his arm around Aura’s shoulders and giving him a squeeze. “Why does this remind me of _The Talk_?” he added to Petram.

                “I not want to be mean.”

                “You weren’t mean,” Russ chuckled. “It’s okay, I promise. You were just a bit jealous, is all. You didn’t like that I was paying attention to Pete.”

                Aura’s eyebrows twitched and he pouted but gave Russ a small nod.

                “Don’t worry about it, okay? We’ll sit down together and help you understand all this new stuff.” Leaning forward, he looked into Aura’s eyes and gave him a smile.

                Slowly, Aura’s features brightened once more, and he agreed to Russ’ proposition.

                “You would make a fantastic father,” Petram commented as they continued down the hall in search of the girls.

                “W-wh-why, why, why do you say that?” Russ stuttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

                “You’re very patient and gentle. You react much more calmly to Aura’s questions and problems than I do.”

                “Only ‘cause I’m not gonna put my foot in my mouth like you might,” Russ teased, winking at Petram.

                “Well, I can’t really deny that, now can I?” he grumbled.

                “So!” Russ released Aura and walked a few steps ahead. “Did you keep Pete entertained today?”

                Aura glanced up at Petram as they followed behind Russ. Uncertainty knit his brow and he chewed his lip.

                “We discussed family this afternoon, didn’t we?” Petram replied in his stead.

                Aura nodded enthusiastically. “Pretty family!”

                “I showed him a picture of all of us together. I told him they would be his family soon, too.” Smiling a genuine, soft smile, Petram’s eyes searched Aura’s face. He was excited to bring the young man home to Insomnia, even if Aura was a little scared.

                “My moms will love you to bits. Once they get over their shock, that is.”

                The blond remained silent.

                “Aura?”

                Arms folded across his chest, shoulders up at his ears, Aura refused to meet their eyes.

                “What’s wrong, buddy? You don’t want to come with us when we leave?” Russ asked, stopping in the middle of the hall. “I know it’s scary. You’ve been alone here for so long, your whole life, and you don’t know anything else. But I promise it will be better.”

                Aura’s eyebrows quivered and he shook his head.

                “You’ll have clean clothes, fresh food every day, a nice place to live with a big, comfy bed,” Russ continued. “You’ll be safe and warm.”

                Aura shook his head again. “I scared.”

                Petram came to Russ’ rescue and put his arm around Aura’s shoulder. “It’s a scary thing, change. But you’ll have so many people waiting for you, ready to support and help you in any way you need. There’s an entire family there, remember? And of course, we’ll all be there, too. We would never force you to come with us if you don’t want to; it’s your choice. And no matter what your choice is, we’ll support you however we can. We aren’t leaving for a few days, either way.”

                “This is probably overwhelming him. I mean, we did come in and basically upset his whole world.”

                “It was a mutual upset, I think,” said Petram, squeezing Aura’s shoulder. “I think it’s my turn to apologize,” he added to the blond.

                Bottom lip trembling, Aura looked up at Petram. Tears rolled down his cheeks.

                “Oh, please don’t cry, love,” Petram sighed, cupping his cheeks and wiping away the tears with his thumbs. “Everything will be okay.” He pulled Aura against his chest and hugged him tightly. The man returned the embrace with vigor, wrapping his arms around Petram’s back and burying his face against his shoulder.

                “Aura not want you to go,” he mumbled into Petram’s neck.

                “We aren’t going anywhere for a while,” Petram reassured Aura. Glancing up, he met Russ’ eyes, and the big man merely shrugged. So helpful.

                Aura clung to Petram.

                Sighing to himself, Petram closed his eyes for a moment. An odd calm settled in his chest as he took a moment to just enjoy the embrace. Petram didn’t hate or fear his closeness. It was unnerving, but it didn’t stop him from tilting his head to press his lips to Aura’s hair.

                Somehow it didn’t seem to matter they only met a short time ago.

                Russ cleared his throat.

                Lifting his head, Petram glanced at the man to see he was staring down the corridor with a smirk on his lips. “Not a word, Clarus.”

                “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

                Shaking his head, Petram released Aura, pushing a strand of hair away from his face as he looked down to meet his eyes. “Now stop fretting, alright? You’ll have to endure our company for a while yet.” Smiling, he brushed away one last tear.

                When Aura lifted his face, his cheeks looked ready to combust they were so pink. His freckles popped on the flushed skin, and his eyes glittered. “Pete smile more,” he said.

                “Yeah, Pete,” Russ teased, winking.

                Petram shot the man a glare and returned his attention to Aura. “I’ll do my best.”

                The blond nodded.

                “Now,” Petram said, giving Aura’s shoulder a squeeze before taking a few steps away, “I don’t know about you two, but I’m a little concerned for the girls.”

                “We parted ways, what, three hours ago?”

                Petram glanced at his watch. “Has it been that long? Goodness!”

                “Maybe they got busy with something and forgot to check in?” Russ suggested, wincing at the implication.

                “Just like you did?”

                “Uh…yeah.”

                Rolling his eyes, Petram tapped his radio. “How are you faring, ladies?”

                “ _No worse for wear. Where are you?_ ” Germina replied after a few seconds.

                “Heading in your direction. At least, we think we are.”

                “ _Stay put. We’ll come to you._ ”

                Petram glanced at Russ. “You sound agitated. What’s wrong?”

                “ _Just wait five damn minutes and we’ll chat. See you in a bit._ ”

                Wrinkling his nose, Petram grumbled and crossed his arms. “Well, then.”

                “Now I’m curious,” said Russ.

                “Rather.”

                “Aura, what’s down this hallway?”

                Lifting his head, Aura stared down the hall. A moment passed and his eyes widened as his skin blanched. Shaking his head, he stepped behind Petram. “Bad, bad things.”

                “Daemons?”

                Aura shook his head, grabbing the back of Petram’s jacket. “ _Them_.”

                Looking over his shoulder, Petram raised his brows. “Who?”

                Aura only shook his head, hiding behind Petram.

                “Whoever it is, they scare the hell out of Aura,” Russ observed, reaching out and putting a hand on his shoulder. “He’s shaking.”

                “I’m aware.”

                Ahead of them, a door opened, and the women joined them in the hall.

                Releasing Petram, Aura sprinted past the men and nearly flatted Corrianna with a hug. She stumbled backward into Germina, who caught them both. The tonberry on Corrianna’s shoulder patted Aura’s head.

                “I think Sunshine missed you,” said Germina, brows arched.

                “He’s worried. We were just informed something rather nasty lives down this corridor,” Petram replied, crossing his arms.

                “This facility is full of nasty things,” Corrianna sighed, arms wrapped around Aura’s waist. “But I’m so happy to see you!”

                “What did you guys find?” Russ asked, narrowing his eyes. “And is that barf on your boots?”

                Giving Aura tight hug, Corrianna released him and looked up at Russ. Her jaw dropped. “Never mind my boots, what happened to you? Oh, my Gods, Russ!” Her brows quivered as she rushed over to stand before him. She examined his blood and dirt stained clothes, the massive holes in his shirt and pants, the bruise on his jaw, the grime on his hands… ”Clarus,” she whispered.

                Russ’ nostrils twitched as his eyebrows knit together in a deep frown. “Don’t worry about it, Cori,” he told her, gently pushing her back.

                “What? Clarus—”

                “We’ve got bigger issues to worry about, Cor,” Germina interrupted.

                The woman glanced back at Germina, brows twitching. She made a tiny noise in her throat, licked her lips, and stepped back. Clearing her throat, she dipped her head in a nod. “Right. Right, okay. Let’s head back to Aura’s room and we can discuss our findings. It’s been an emotionally exhausting day, and I need to sit down.”

                Petram tossed a questioning glance at his sister. She shook her head and mouthed _later_.

                Silent but with so many questions between them, the team retreated to the bunk room to regroup.


	26. Chapter 26

                Corrianna didn’t know where to start; the nightmare fuel in the lab, or the organic, mammalian magitek creation hidden somewhere in the facility. She and Germina were reading through a file on the so-called _Alpha Weapon_ when Petram radioed, and it warranted a lot more research.

                Frowning at her lap, she tried to work out what to say. She had so much to say, so many questions to ask…Russ wouldn’t look at her, and honestly, she didn’t blame him. They had a lot of baggage to sift through. She had an entire storage room of baggage, truth be told.

                With a grumble, she licked her lips, combed her fingers through her hair, and sat up straight. She launched into a recap of what happened after they parted ways, sticking to important details. She had to pause briefly to explain they named the tonberry Tantivy, then stopped altogether when she had to say what they found in the lab.

                “Twelve tanks, eleven with deceased subjects still inside, one broken and empty,” Germina said, getting her over the hurdle.

                Corrianna nodded, turning her attention to Aura. “That’s where you came from, right?”

                Aura tilted his head in a barely perceptible nod.

                “We knew we’d come across such a room, but I’m certain it was a shock to see,” Petram commented.

                “Shock is an understatement,” Corrianna muttered back. “Um, but while we need to do a lot more digging into what their purpose was, what the science was, we found something even worse.”

                “Worse?”

                “There’s something hidden away in this facility called _Alpha Weapon_ ,” Corrianna stated.

                A heavy silence followed her words.

                “The hell is that? Some kind of heavy munition?” Russ asked, expression dull.

                “In a way,” said Germina, plucking the tonberry off her shoulder and plopping it down in Aura’s lap. The blond hugged it tightly.

                “Care to elaborate?” sighed Petram, resting his cheek on his fist.

                “What did the file call it?” Corrianna’s brow twitched in thought. “The first successful fusion of living matter and magitek.”

                “It must be ancient! Are you sure it isn’t long dead?”

                “I only know what the computer told me. Alpha’s _dormant_ somewhere in this facility.” Crossing her arms, Germina leaned against the wall beside Russ.

                “Dormant?” Russ asked her.

                “Inactive. Asleep. Non-functioning at present. You do have a brain in there, don’t you, Pup?”

                “I know what it means, I was just…y’know what? Never mind.”

                Germina grinned chuckling. “We didn’t get a chance to investigate too much. Pete radioed just after I found an introductory file of sorts.”

                “Then I presume the next step is research?” Petram looked to Corrianna for confirmation, only to find her staring at Germina and Russ, eyes narrow. “Princess?”

                “Hm? Oh, yes. Of course. Uh…I can’t read more than a few words though, and I don’t think Clarus can read _any_ , so that will be up to you and Germ. You two will have to go—”

                “No! No go!” Aura interrupted, eyes wide and brow furrowed.

                “What?” Corrianna’s gaze flicked between Aura and Petram.

                “No go!” Aura repeated, stomping his foot.

                “Calm down, Aura. That isn’t what Corrianna meant. She was merely giving us instructions. We aren’t leaving,” Petram assured Aura, arm around his shoulders.

                “I’m sorry, did I say something I shouldn’t have?”

                “Our eventual departure is a touchy subject, I’m afraid,” Petram sighed. “You’re alright, Aura.”

                “Aura not want friends to go,” he mumbled.

                Corrianna’s chest ached as she watched him. “I’m sorry, hon. I didn’t mean to upset you. Don’t be mad okay?” As she spoke, she crossed the small room to where he sat on his bed next to Petram. Sitting down on his other side, she put her head on his shoulder. “We aren’t going anywhere.”

                “What d’ya say we call it a day, Highness?” Germina said after a stretch of silence. “We’ve made some progress, and I don’t think any of us have the concentration for much more.”

                Petram, Russ, and Corrianna stared at her.

                “What? I’m not afraid to admit I’m exhausted,” she grumbled. “Alpha can wait another night. I mean, it’s been dormant all this time, right?”

                “Uh, yeah. I’m just surprised to hear it from you.”

                “You feelin’ okay, Germina? Usually, you’re so…aggressive,” Russ said, arching a brow at her.

                “Look at it this way; if we ended up in a fight, a life or death situation, could any of you focus right now?”

                The silence was telling.

                “Right. So, let’s go get some food, some sleep, and start fresh in the morning, I suppose,” Corrianna told the group.

                “Someone’s pre-empting the _sleep_ part of your suggestion,” Germina pointed out, smirking as Tantivy joined her once again.

                “I don’t blame him for being tired,” Petram said, shifting the blond so he could lift him onto his back. There was no need to wake him. “So much has changed for him in the last twenty-four hours.”

                “For all of us.”

                Unanimously deciding silence was a better option than further attempts at conversation, the group retraced their steps and headed back to the surface. No one pointed out the blood on the floor near one of the locked doors, nor the small puddle of it further along the corridor. Everyone kept their thoughts to themselves and trudged home.

                Russ sighed to himself, scrubbing a hand through his hair. He glanced from Corrianna to Germina. They walked a fair distance from one another, but he didn’t sense the same animosity that had been there the night before, or even this morning. He was curious about what went on between them while they were alone. Maybe Germina’s weird personality shift had something to do with it.

                “ _Yer a sweet, sensitive boy, Russ. My little man, kind’n generous to a fault. Just like yer mother, gotta carry the world on yer shoulders…_ ”

                A brief smile flashed across Russ’ face at the sudden memory of his Ma. She was always quick to tell him how his soft heart might get him in trouble one day. That day had come and gone, his soft heart not letting him say no to Corrianna when he should have. Now there was a rift between them he wasn’t sure he could repair. The least he could do was make things right elsewhere.

                Shoving his hands deep into his pockets, Russ fell into step next to Germina. He gave her a sideways glance to find she was already looking back at him. Quickly looking away, he pursed his lips. Her eyes stayed on his profile, and he could feel the prickle of her stare.

                “I’m sorry,” he murmured, frowning at the ground.

                “Why?”

                Russ winced at the boredom in her voice. He inhaled deeply, nose wrinkled up. “I’m not entirely sure, to be honest,” he admitted. “For whatever I did to make you hate me so much. We’re supposed to be family, right? I never wanted to fight with you.”

                Readjusting her glasses, Germina crossed her arms and kept her gaze straight ahead while formulating her answer. Her biceps twitched, giving the feathers of her arm-length eagle wing tattoo the illusion of fluttering.

                Russ waited, a nervous weight in his gut.

                “Look, just because I’ve been more…civil…today, doesn’t mean we’re suddenly BFFs. I was forced to swallow a massively bitter pill yesterday that’s gonna take time to process. Just do what I said and take care of Cor and we’ll be golden,” she told him in a low voice.

                “So, you’re not gonna try and break my face anymore?”

                “Only if you ask nicely,” she replied with a wink.

                “I’ll keep that in mind if I ever want my features rearranged,” he chuckled.

                “Nah, keep ‘em where they are. Cor’s pretty fond of their current placement.”

                Russ’ jaw dropped.

                Germina gave him a toothy grin and left to walk with her brother.

                Scowling, Russ hid the color rising in his cheeks by staring pointedly at his feet. Did Cori actually _like_ him? There was no way…Maybe? He was pretty stupid about stuff like this.

                Squeezing his eyes shut, he gave his head a sharp shake. No, Germina was just pulling his leg again. That had to be it. He wasn’t good enough for her anyway.

                Russ raised his arms above his head and stretched as they neared camp. A shower—even the sad excuse for a camp shower—and a change of clothes sounded heavenly. Maybe after dinner, he’d take Aura off Petram’s hands for a while. He couldn’t wait until he was home with a real bed, plumbing, and better resources to help Aura learn and adapt.

                Breaking away from the group, Russ went to fulfill his current goals; to be clean and in clothes not full sliced to ribbons. Grabbing something fresh to wear, he trudged through the worn patch of grass leading to the shower. Stepping behind the privacy screen, he peeled off his sticky, blood and sweat soaked clothes and chucked them aside. He made sure to take his mom’s pendant from his pocket first.

                Russ stood under the weak drizzle of lukewarm water, watching the blood sluice off his body. After a few minutes, he closed his eyes and let his mind wander to the events of last night. Sex was not something he thought about often, if at all. He never expected, or really wanted to fall into anyone’s bed, and was perfectly content to live his life that way. He never thought he was missing out on anything. He still didn’t. Sure, it felt nice, but he wasn’t foaming at the mouth to do it again. Though he had to admit, making Cori happy _always_ made him feel good. If he could be her friend, her source of comfort even if it had to be in a physical sense, he would never send her away.

                It was sad how much of his life revolved around her. It always had, and likely always would. He would do anything for her.

                Shutting off the water, Russ sighed heavily. He watched the drops fall from the ends of his hair, goosebumps peppering his skin.

                “Clarus, can we talk?”

                Russ froze. Gods, could her timing be any worse?

                “I’ll wait until you’re dressed and stuff, but…” she cut herself off with a sigh.

                Glancing at the privacy screen, he puffed a breath through his nose. Licking his lips, he grabbed his towel and draped it over his head. “Uh…yeah. Sure.”

                “I’ll, um, I’ll wait for you at the benches.”

                Russ stared at his feet for a good long while, water dripping off his body. He didn’t want to have this conversation. He was terrified of it, actually, but he couldn’t ignore her forever.

                Scrubbing his towel over his head, he scowled at the ground. His thoughts were so muddled, every day he felt less and less in control of his mind. Not so much in the sense that he’d lose himself, but he was being presented ideas and scenarios he never would have considered before. He was still Clarus Aurum-Amicitia, yet just a little…off.

                Grumbling to himself, he dressed, threw the towel around his neck, and went to find Cori.

                Sitting alone on a bench with her legs crossed and hands in her lap, the woman stared down at her fingers. Her long black hair fell forward, cloaking her face, casting a shadow over her pretty eyes and freckled cheeks.  Now that she wasn’t wearing her jacket, Russ noticed her tee shirt was old and worn, having once belonged to King Noctis as part of his Crownsguard uniform. Russ knew she also kept Prince Prompto’s old vest in her wardrobe as well.

                Past and present warred within her.

                Russ wanted nothing more than to wrap his arms around her and protect her from the world.

                Swallowing against the lump in his throat he joined Corrianna on the bench.  Like always, he sat close enough their arms touched. Though there was so much tension coursing between them, such a simple, familiar act was so comfortable it made his heart ache.

                Inhaling a shuddering breath, Corrianna squeezed her hands. “I’m so, so sorry Russ.”

                “What? Why?” An apology was the last way he expected this conversation to start.

                “Last night…we should never have done that. I know you don’t like that kind of thing, but I took advantage of you anyway. I was so selfish, and I never ever wanted to do that to you. You’re too important to me.”

                Russ found himself at a loss for words. The thickness in her voice, the tears splashing the backs of her hands…it was too much. Seeing her in pain was too much. This was _his_ fault. He did this to her, made her hurt so badly she was crying.

                His jaw quivered and his vision blurred. “You can’t just decide that.”

                “But I did! I used your sweet nature, I used your body just to make myself feel better. My heart has broken so many times in the last two days, and doing that…I was just stomping on the pieces.”

                “Stop. Just…shut up.”

                Corrianna flinched.

                Russ wiped his eyes and swallowed hard. “You don’t get to say you used me when you haven’t even _talked_ to me. You avoided me all day, wouldn’t even make eye contact…I thought I did something wrong, hurt you somehow. I don’t _care_ that we slept together because you wanted to feel better, I’m just happy I could _help_. How do you think I feel, sitting by, watching you suffer this way? _I_ should be the one apologizing. I’ll never be able to help you like she can.” Saying all this, putting it into words…wasn’t this supposed to ease the ache in his chest?

                “She has nothing to do with this! I fell out of love with her a long time ago. Germina isn’t _you_ , Clarus. She only wishes she was…” Corrianna mumbled the last sentence, punctuating it with a sigh. Sitting up, she pulled her hair back and tied it up in a messy bun.

                Russ glanced over at her and spotted a mark on her neck, just above the collar of her shirt. Without thought, he turned and brushed his fingers over the bruise. “Does it hurt?”

                She shook her head. “No.” Turning her face toward him, her eyes sparkled.

                Russ’ eyes grew wide when he saw the scab on her lip. Lifting his hand, he gently swept the pad of his thumb across it. “What happened?”

                Brows twitching, Corrianna looked like she wanted to swat him away. “You can ask me that, but I can’t?”

                “I found the armory. It was guarded by daemons. My sword isn’t great in close quarters and I got careless. Stupid, even. Took ‘em on with my bare hands. Petram and Aura found me passed out in the hall.”

                “All that blood—?”

                “Was mine. I’m no good for you, Cori. Germina should be your Shield.” Dropping his hand back to his lap, he took a deep breath.

                “And _you_ don’t get to decide that! What did I tell you about dealing with that inferiority complex of yours?”

                Pulling his towel off his neck, Russ fiddle with the damp fabric for a moment. “Corrianna, don’t be upset about what happened last night. I’m not.”

                “You don’t have to lie.”

                “What would I gain by lying? Just because I’m not interested, doesn’t mean I didn’t enjoy it, And I enjoyed it because it was with _you_ ,” he admitted.

                Eyes wide, Corrianna gasped. Her brows quivered, tears obscuring her vision before rolling down her cheeks. Squeezing her eyes shut, the tears came faster, and she couldn’t hold back a sob.

                Russ grabbed her and pulled her against his chest, wrapping his arms around her. Holding her tight, he let her cry. Her entire body shook with each sob and listening to her made the ache in his chest so much worse. She didn’t deserve this. He was _still_ hurting her.

                Russ knew how Aura felt, asking Petram to smile more. He just wanted her to be happy.

                Gods…he loved her so much.

                Jaw trembling, he swallowed past a lump in his throat and squeezed Corrianna a little tighter. He loved her and wanted her to be happy. But he’d never be able to give her what she needed.

                Eventually, Corrianna fell silent and still but didn’t try to move away. She seemed content to lean against him, face pressed to his chest, hands pinned between them. He rubbed her back in gentle, slow circles, refusing to move or speak until she did.

                He didn’t know if things were better or worse between them now, and he was afraid to find out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in one day! Whooboy! This officially makes Steel Moondrops my longest fic yet, and we are still a way from being done. HOWEVER, that being said, I'm starting some college courses on Tuesday, and they run for the next 3 months. So between classes and work, I'm not sure how much this will be updated. I'll try my best, though!


	27. Chapter 27

                “Did you know our little blondie is almost thirty-five?”

                The mouthful of water Petram was about to swallow took a wrong turn and he started coughing. It took him a full minute to catch his breath. “Excuse me?” he wheezed.

                A wide grin crinkled the corners of Germina’s eyes. “You’ve always liked your men older.”

                “What men?” he now squeaked, eyes wide.

                “Admit it, Petey, every man you’ve ever crushed on has been way older than you. You like the daddies,” she teased with a wink.

                “That is not true!”

                Germina barked out a laugh at the expression on her brother’s face. “The youngest one was Mira, and that crush lasted, what, three months?”

                Petram’s cheeks flushed and he scowled at the ingredients he was preparing for dinner. “That only happened because he was doting on me during training! It was more like hero-worship than a crush, and I’ll thank you not to remind me.”

                “You like any man who pays attention to you. My favorite, and probably your worst crush to date, had to be Dr. Folridge.”

                “Why was _that_ the worst?”

                “You were twelve and he was in his sixties.”

                Petram closed his eyes and sighed. “Alright, I admit my tastes haven’t been exemplary, but it hardly matters. Why are we even discussing this?”

                Propping her elbows on the corner of his workstation, Germina put her chin in her hand and shrugged. A smirk curved one corner of her mouth. “Just thought I’d let you know your age difference kink is still intact.”

                Petram gaped at his sister.

                “Oh, that’s a cute expression,” she chuckled. “Y’know, the only one of your crushes I ever liked was Prince Prompto. It’s your longest running one, too, right? A bit unfair to Aura though…”

                Pursing his lips, Petram refused to answer.

                “You know it is. You’re projecting because he looks like him. And he’s basically a blank slate. Kinda manipulative, doncha think?”

                Petram’s gaze snapped toward her. “Who are _you_ to call anyone manipulative? You, who told me the reason you chased off my friends in school was to protect me. You, who never allowed me to socialize with our peers because you were _protecting_ me. You, who openly threatened a man I was chatting with because you were _protecting_ me! I have done _nothing_ to Aura! I will not shape who he is, nor will I deter him from being who he wishes to be! Yes, I fully admit I was smitten by his looks at first, but that shock wore off very quickly.

                “And not that any of this should matter to you in the least, but Aura keeps an old photograph in that storage trunk of his. A photograph of King Noctis and his retinue. He’s been attracted to Pops just as long as I’ve been to Prince Prompto.” Hands vibrating with anger, Petram set down his knife and clenched his fists.

                Slowly licking her lips, Germina blinked, studying Petram’s profile. “Alright, so I’ve been a shitty sister. I’m a shitty girlfriend and a shitty daughter too, so why not, right? But believe it or not, I have been protecting you. Especially from stupid men. You would have gotten your heart stomped on when they found out you aren’t packing the same thing they are.”

                “You don’t know that.”

                “I _do_ know that. They were all assholes, everyone who eyed you up because you’re tall and lean and suave. They don’t like when things are _different_.” Boredom colored her voice.

                “You never stopped to think your meddling might make my anxieties worse, did you?” he whispered.

                Germina sighed. “Yeah, well, keeping you safe was my priority. The right person will help you overcome everything else.”

                “And how, pray tell, do you expect me to find that person when you scare everyone away? Then _brag_ about your own conquests.”

                “You’ve already found him, idiot.”

                “You aren’t seriously going to turn around and tell me Aura is my right person after berating me about him?”

                “I am, Petey.”

                Mouth agape, Petram gawked at his sister for a moment before shaking his head. “I am not having this conversation with you.”

                “I’m being serious, Pete. Aura is perfect for you. He’s sweet, cheerful, has literally zero preconceived notions—”

                “He has the mentality of a five-year-old.”

                “For now. He learned to talk overnight, right? This childish persona won’t last long. He _likes_ you, Pete.”

                Licking his lips, Petram breathed out a long-suffering sigh and faced his sister. “What is going on with you? Yesterday you were angrier than I’ve ever seen you, and now you want to help and play matchmaker? This is an exceedingly suspicious personality shift, Mina.”

                “Is there something wrong with trying to be a better person?”

                “When it’s this unnatural, yes.”

                Wrinkling up her nose, Germina groaned and closed her eyes. “I talked to Pops last night.”

                “And?”

                “You know how Mira doesn’t have a Shield, but Cori does?”

                Petram nodded.

                “That’s because dad was supposed to be the last one. He was trying to abolish the titled and amalgamate Shield, Guard, and Glaive into a single, structured hierarchy. There would be guard details and stuff, but the military as a whole would be the best of the best, eliminating the need for specially trained personal guards.”

                “That doesn’t sound feasible.”

                “It does if you’re dad. Without the Empire, he doesn’t think the military needs to be so expansive anymore. The whole world loves King Noctis, after all.”

                “It’s still a poor move, strategically speaking. What if some new threat arises? Someone with lofty ideals?”

                Germina shook her head, waving away Petram’s concerns. “Doesn’t matter, ‘cause obviously it never happened, right?”

                “What _did_ happen?”

                “See, this is where things get sticky,” she told him, shaking a finger in his direction. “The Council was well into restructuring the military when Corrianna got sick. Real sick. Even she doesn’t know this part of the story since people don’t talk about it.”

                “You sound like the town gossip.”

                “Do you want to hear this, or not?”

                “…Of course.”

                Germina smirked at him. “So, like I was saying, Cori got really sick. Nothing worked, doctors couldn’t figure out what was wrong. They eventually narrowed it down to a by-product of the technology used in our conception and gestation, and bad genes. Without saying too much, Pops told me Prince Prompto has unstable genetics. Cori was dying.”

                Petram bit his lip. Once upon a time, the same technology malfunctioned and left him in a similar state.

                “So, King Noctis, out of ideas and with no Oracle to heal her, prayed to the Astrals who helped him on his journey years ago. A pact with a God is not an easy thing to achieve, judging by what we were taught. But Noctis is no ordinary King.”

                “Defier of Gods, Bringer of Light.”

                “Exactly. One of the Astrals eventually took pity and answered Noctis’ prayers to save Corrianna.”

                Petram nodded. “The Stormsender.”

                “The Stormsender made an agreement with the King, one no one knows the exact terms of, but Cori was saved.”

                Crossing his arms, Petram arched a brow at his sister. “Where are you going with this fantastical tale?”

                Germina frowned at him. “Hold your chocobos, I’m getting there. As you can imagine, the power of the Astrals takes a stunning amount of fortitude, magic, and control to wield. Royalty only. But those Oracles and Kings of the past…all adults. Imagine putting that power in a child.

                “Pops told me when she woke up, she had the full power of the Fulgurian coursing through her. She was destroying equipment, blackening the sky, calling on torrential downpours. Her dads tried to calm her, our dads, our aunts, they tried _sedating_ her.” Disbelief and anger warred on her face as she recounted their dad’s story.

                Petram had a feeling he knew where this was going.

                “But our very own Clarus Aurum-Amicitia, Corrianna’s best friend, happened to be visiting that day. This dumb puppy…he walked up to her without a care, put his hand on her shoulder and told her—of all the things to tell someone who has a God waging war in their body— _we’re here_. He said _we’re here_ , and everything just…stopped.” Germina’s voice hitched and tears filled her eyes. “I never stood a chance, Pete.”

                Watching her wipe her eyes, Petram pieced together the remainder of events. Their dad chose to make Clarus the Princess’ official Shield after seeing him quell the power of an Astral, as well as his strength in combat. He never explained the reasoning behind it to anyone, but at the behest of the King, the role was to remain intact. Clarus was likely sworn to secrecy about the event, and Germina’s jealousy began to fester.

                Sighing, Petram put his hand on top of his sister’s head. “For what it’s worth, I do think Corrianna loved you.”

                “Maybe, but I fucked it all up and torched the bridge.” Germina sighed. “I miss her, Pete.”

                “I know you do, Gem. But you’ll have to learn from your mistakes, grow, and become a better person,” Petram told her softly, petting her hair.

                “That’s what I’m trying to do, but I’ve been an asshole so long, I don’t know how to be nice.”

                “Don’t be silly. If this conversation with Pops only happened last night, you’ve made amazing strides already. You just have to rely less on those survival barriers you’ve erected around yourself. Also, you needn’t always protect everyone. We’re bound to make our own mistakes. It’s how we learn.”

                Germina sighed, her shoulders relaxing as she put her head in her arms, propped on the edge of the workbench. “I just can’t help but wonder why the Astrals chose him. Why does _he_ get to be with her and not me?”

                “A question you could ponder until the end of days and never find an answer. Don’t allow it to rule your life, sister.”

                Germina scoffed and reached up to pat her brother’s arm. “Only if you stop letting your little secret rule yours.”

                “I don’t.”

                Germina sat up, snickering. “If you say so.”

                Rolling his eyes, Petram returned to his dinner preparations. He was keenly aware of her watching him carefully. She used to do this when they were younger, when he was still learning alongside Pops. It was both irritating and nostalgic.

                “Germina, if you don’t cease your staring this instant, I’ll give your share to Aura,” he threatened when he could no longer handle her eyes on him.

                Germina grinned at his discomfort.

                “Honestly!” he huffed.

                She stared at him a bit longer, tilting her head as she studied him. “Aura has a picture of Pops, you said?”

                “All four of them. He said he found it in one of the _fancy rooms_. I assume some higher-up’s office.”

                “What did Sunshine say when you told him that was our dad?”

                “Not much. He said Ignis was very pretty, then shyly took the photo back.”

                “A match made in heaven,” Germina giggled.

                “Is it really? I don’t want to be a proxy, nor turn him into one,” Petram muttered, readjusting his glasses.

                Germina punched her brother in the thigh.

                “Shiva’s tits!” Flinching away, Petram rubbed his leg.

                “You’re an idiot.”

                “Was _punching_ me necessary?”

                Germina blinked at him. “Yes.”

                Letting out a loud exasperated sigh, Petram rubbed his leg a bit more.

                “Protest all you want, but you two are gonna end up together. And you’re going to be happy and disgustingly adorable,” she told him matter-of-factly.

                “Germina, that’s enough. I mean it.”

                Shrugging, she pushed herself to her feet. “Whatever. Deny it all you want.”

                “Are you clairvoyant now?”

                “Like I need to be to see the way he looks at you. He may not understand it yet, but he doesn’t look at you like any of those other assholes did. He sees how amazing you are.”

                Heat began to creep into Petram’s cheeks. “We haven’t even known one another two days!”

                “Doesn’t matter.” Shaking her head, she wandered off in the direction of her tent.

                Letting out another heavy sigh, Petram focused on dinner. No more distractions or pointless conversation. He had people to feed, and he wouldn’t let his jumbled thoughts keep him from his task. Out of sight, out of mind. At least for now.


	28. Chapter 28

                _Screaming, muffled, garbled, overlapped by the squeal of an alarm. The howl of beasts. It was all noise he couldn’t understand. Nothing he could make sense of yet. His body burned, his lungs ached, were heavy in his chest. His eyes, being used for the first time, shrieked with sharp pain. He could see nothing, could see everything. Panic, fear sent jolts through his limbs. He thrashed, his hands smacking the smooth, slick glass. He closed his hands, hitting the glass again, and again, and again.  He screamed, bubbles of fiery pain tearing up his throat. He kicked, flailed, beat the glass with all his strength. Electricity prickled through his limbs; the glass cracked. Spiderwebbed. Shattered. He was falling, gasping, howling—_

                He was screaming. His chest heaved as he sat up, trying to make sense of where he was. He had fallen asleep, smelling Petram’s scent, upset by the day. It was pitch black and his chest was tight. Sweat soaked his skin, his clothes, the bedding beneath him.

                A bright flash of light and a silhouette filled his vision and he squinted. A cool breeze blew across his skin, giving him goosebumps.

                “Aura, what’s wrong? What happened?”

                Petram’s voice washed over him, calming him, reminding him he was not in his own bed. This was Pete’s tent, his bed, his clothes. He wasn’t alone.

                “A nightmare,” Aura eventually replied, pushing his hair off his forehead.

                Petram entered the tent, closing the flap behind him. He knelt down and turned on the battery lamp before shuffling over to sit beside Aura. One hand on the edge of the cot, he gently touched Aura’s arm with the other. “Are you alright?”

                Aura sighed, nodding. “I haven’t had that nightmare in a long time.”

                Wide-eyed, Petram stared at Aura.

                “What?”

                “Um…Your speech has improved drastically while you slept.”

                “Hm…It _does_ feel easier to talk,” replied Aura, breathing out another sigh. Though he was still shaken by his dream, he realized his thoughts had settled. It was no longer a flurry of incoherent, inconsistent facts. It felt like his mind sorted all the new information while he was asleep.

                “I had just gotten used to your speech pattern,” Petram said with a shake of his head. “That’s not important. Are you alright?”

                Aura looked down at his hands trying to ignore the fluttering in his belly. The funny feeling. He rolled his bottom lip between his teeth, peeking up at Petram from under his brows.

                “What is it, Aura?” Petram asked, rubbing his thumb across Aura’s goosebumps-covered skin.

                “Um…” Why was this so much harder now? Earlier today, he would have just done it without thought. Now he knew certain things and just thinking about those things made his cheeks hot. “Can I…have a hug?” he eventually mumbled. Asking for physical contact seemed strange, yet just wrapping his arms around Petram didn’t feel right, either.

                Without answering, Petram got up to sit on the edge of the cot. Gently, tenderly, he drew Aura against his chest, tucking his head beneath his chin. Like this afternoon, his warm hands slid across Aura’s back and he kissed the top of his head.

                “Thank you,” Aura whispered.

                “Happy to help,” Petram replied.

                Neither man moved, Aura happy to listen to Petram’s heart and settle his thoughts. Petram content to indulge in the physical contact he didn’t often receive.

                Eventually, Aura’s stomach complained loudly.

                Chuckling into Aura’s hair, Petram released the blond and sat up. His eyes crinkled with a bright smile. “Are you hungry?”

                “Yeah.”

                “You slept straight through dinner, even though I tried to wake you earlier. But I saved you a plate.”

                The corner of Aura’s mouth tilted, and he reached up to brush his fingers over the two spots—moles—on Petram’s right cheek. “You’re even prettier when you smile.”

                Color flooded Petram’s cheeks and his smile faltered. “Well, aren’t you a charmer,” he choked out.

                “You don’t like it when I call you that.”

                Bending down, Petram turned off the lamp. “Come, let’s get you some dinner.” Without waiting, he left the tent.

                Aura sighed heavily—something he had been doing a lot of recently—and swung his legs off the cot. He kept upsetting Petram. Was it because he didn’t understand how he should be interacting with them? That wasn’t _his_ fault. They were the first living people he had ever seen. He might know _things_ , but he didn’t know people. People were hard.

                Or maybe it was because he looked like Prompto Argentum. Was he just inherently upsetting to have around because of that? He couldn’t help _that_ , either. He didn’t want to be seen that way. He wasn’t Prompto. He was Aurarum.

                Tears burned Aura’s eyes and he scrubbed his hands over his face. He didn’t like being sad. He wasn’t sad much in his life, didn’t really have a reason to be most of the time, but now…it felt like that’s all he was. And confused. Confused by his heart, his head, and his body.

                Before Petram could call him, Aura got up and ducked out of the tent. His eyes immediately landed on the plate piled high with food and he could smell all the wonderful scents. His stomach growled again. Single-minded, Aura went straight for the food. Sitting on a box next to the workbench, he picked up the plate with one hand and started shoveling food into his mouth with the other.

                “Slow down, or you’ll choke. I left you some utensils there, as well,” Petram scolded, sitting opposite him.

                “Sorry,” Aura mumbled around a mouthful.

                “And don’t talk with your mouth full.”

                Aura swallowed and apologized again. “I keep making you mad.”

                “You are doing nothing of the sort,” Petram replied with a shake of his head.

                “Then why can’t I make you smile? Make you laugh like I heard on the radio?” Putting his dinner aside, Aura finally met Petram’s gaze head-on. “The voices on the radio—yours and Cori’s—were the reason I was brave enough to come to the above-place.”

                Petram licked his lips, leaning forward and propping his elbows on his knees. “Our situation is quite serious, Aura. To find you, learn things about ourselves in this manner, to be faced with unseen threats…it’s all frightening to us. Not something that provokes smiles and laughter.

                “I am a serious man to begin with, and it takes a lot to make me smile, really smile, never mind laugh. You really shouldn’t take it personally, Aura. I promise it has nothing to do with your behavior.”

                Aura’s expression softened as he curled a piece of hair behind his ear.

                “If it makes you feel better, know that I already prefer your company over most,” Petram added with a smirk.

                Aura narrowed his eyes incredulously.

                Chuckling, Petram sat up straight, hooking one leg over the other. “It’s true. We may have only known one another shy of two days, but it’s a challenge not to get a _little_ attached to someone who likes to compliment me regularly. You’re a sweet person.”

                Aura tilted his head. “Sweet?”

                “Very kind. I would have thought someone with no previous experience with other people would have been terrified. Possibly aggressive or agitated, letting instincts take over. But you…you were trusting and sweet from the very moment we met. You knew you shared a connection with Corrianna, you sensed Russ is a gentle giant, you realized I could help you communicate, and you knew it best to keep your distance from Germina until she adjusted to your presence. Somehow you have this uncanny ability to read people, though you know nothing of human nature. And yet…you remain soft and sweet.”

                Aura blinked at Petram, a lightness in his chest. It made an odd partner for his fluttering belly. “I _know_ things,” he mumbled in response.

                “I know you do…but it worries me how much you have locked away up there,” Petram admitted. He sighed, studying Aura’s features. There was a sly sharpness in his eyes. He was almost certain there was something the blond was hiding, but he wasn’t sure if it was relevant any longer. Of course, Aura had no concept of time, so he may not know whether it was or wasn’t.

                “Everything you told me today…it opened up so much new information in my head. I still don’t understand a lot of it, but…somehow, I do? I don’t think my head works like it should.”

                Petram’s brow twitched. At first, he wasn’t entirely sure what Aura meant, but he wasn’t thinking of Aura as a programmed clone. Someone conditioned to have all the information they needed to perform their task. Someone created by a government known for their human-weapon experiments. Someone who broke free of his development tank before he was meant to.

                No wonder he thought his head wasn’t working as it should.

                “Aura…when your first woke up all those years ago, was there anyone around? Anyone sitting at a console or something?”

                He shook his head. “No, I was alone. There was…an alarm, darkness, screaming…”

                “Your nightmare?”

                Aura dipped his head in a tiny nod. “I used to have it all the time, but when the monsters got so bad I couldn’t avoid them, I locked up the room. I did what I could to overwrite the memories. I found the colors and painted my walls, I rescued Tantivy, I found things to call friends. Before the sun came up, all I did was survive. Even after, my trips out were short. I was scared.

                “Sometimes I know things so clearly, so totally, but other times it’s like half a picture…there’s missing bits,” Aura explained, gaze dropping to the ground between his feet.

                Petram breathed out another sigh and got to his feet. He took the few steps toward Aura and squatted before him, taking his hands and squeezing them gently. Aura’s fingers were sticky with remnants of food, but it wasn’t important.

                “I’m sorry,” he said firmly, rubbing his thumbs over Aura’s knuckles. “You’ve spent so much time alone and afraid, not knowing who or what you are. You had to live in a world of darkness and daemons, relying on broken memories and instincts to survive. The cruelty of the Empire is still affecting lives and it sickens me. I don’t know how I’m supposed to help you, but it’s all I want to do. I want _you_ to be happy. To be safe, to be somewhere you no longer have to fight just to live.” Petram wanted to say more, wanted to give Aura some eloquent, flowery speech, but he couldn’t find the words. Tears burned his eyes and blurred his vision. Pushing his glasses up, he rubbed his forearm over his eyes and clenched his teeth.

                Aura inhaled a shaky breath, his bottom lip trembling as he looked down at Petram. This was one of those half-pictures. The missing bits were important, but he didn’t have them and could only react to what was in front of him: Petram’s tears. “I still don’t know what I am, or really who I am beyond the name you gave me. I don’t think I’ve ever been in real danger here, not after closing up the bad rooms, but…I don’t know anymore. Everything I’m learning is…hard to understand, and I’m not sure what’s right and what isn’t.”

                Petram puffed out a soft breath. “As Russ said, we’ll help you learn. But that’s a long lesson, not something you’ll adapt to overnight. But this isn’t quite—”

                Aura bent over Petram, squeezing his hands and pressing his lips to the top of his head. A kiss. Soft and gentle. “I want to help you, too,” he whispered before sitting back up. “My pretty person.”

                Head snapping up, Petram’s eyes were wide behind his glasses, and his cheeks were stained red. He stuttered out a few syllables but couldn’t form any words. Eventually, he dropped his gaze and groaned softly. “I just can’t win against you.”

                Aura didn’t know what that meant, and he still didn’t understand why his face turned red when he got called pretty, but now…he was starting to like this reaction. It wasn’t a smile, but it was still nice to look at. It was…cute.”

                “Aura?”

                “Yes?”

                “As part of our job, our duties here, we have to investigate your home. We have to learn what was going on there before the Night. It might get difficult for you, just as it is for Corrianna. But I want you to rely on us, okay? We’re all here to help you and keep you safe.”

                Aura nodded.

                Releasing Aura’s hands, Petram stood. “Now finish your dinner.”

                He didn’t have to be told twice.


	29. Chapter 29

                Noctis sat up in bed, keenly aware of the cold, empty space beside him. Typically, when Prompto couldn’t sleep, he stayed in bed on his phone or reading anything from comic books to Council Minutes. This time his husband was nowhere to be seen. The room was dark, save the slight glow under the door.

                Sighing, Noctis pushed the covers back and maneuvered his aching bones out of bed. Pulling on his robe, he yawned widely and shuffled sleepily across the room. Eyes half-closed, he opened the door to the living area and spotted Prompto’s mostly-silver hair over the back of one of their well-worn chairs. Sitting opposite him was Ignis.

                “What’s with this late-night rendezvous in my living room?” he asked, yawning again.

                Prompto twisted in the chair to look at Noctis. “Sorry, Noct. I was having nightmares, so I went for a stroll. Specs was in the same boat, so we came back here to sit by the fire for a bit.”

                “Pardon the intrusion, Majesty.”

                Rolling his eyes at the title, Noctis waved his hand and eased himself into another chair. “You guys worried about the kids?”

                “Aren’t you?” Prompto asked in return.

                “Dumb question.”

                “I understand Corrianna hasn’t called since she first revealed Aurarum’s existence?” Ignis asked, shifting in his seat to lean on the arm of the chair.

                “No, and I wish she would,” complained Noctis, wrinkling up his nose. “Heard from the twins?”

                Ignis hesitated, inhaling deeply and adjusting his glasses. “Gladio and I had a long conversation with Mina yesterday. Unfortunately, we had to divulge a few secrets to her, but better that than seeing her continue down the destructive path she was on.”

                “Those kids have been learning a lot of our secrets,” Prompto muttered, propping his cheek on his fist.

                “What did you have to tell her?”

                “The circumstances around Clarus’ promotion to Corrianna’s Shield. Apparently, in a fit, the Princess summoned the Stormsender.”

                Noctis grumbled low in his throat. “Well, it wasn’t a secret we were gonna be able to keep forever. Especially with Mina’s attachment to Cori.”

                “Attachment?” snickered Prompto, giving Noctis a sideways glance. “You know they dated for a while, right?”

                Blinking, Noctis turned his head toward Prompto. “I’m sorry?”

                Giggling, Prompto reached over to pat Noctis’ arm. “I’m not surprised you didn’t know. They weren’t super open about it, and you’ve always been kinda oblivious.”

                “Am not.”

                “They did suit one another. Too bad my daughter’s ego and misguided overprotectiveness of her brother drove them apart,” sighed Ignis.

                “Wait. Did everyone know but me?”

                Ignis smirked. “I’m not sure Gladio knew. But we’ve gotten off-topic.”

                “Wasn’t much of a topic,” Noctis grumbled.

                Arching a brow, Ignis regarded the King a moment. “We were discussing updates from our children. At the moment, a rather important topic.”

                “Yeah, if we were getting actual updates,” Noctis replied, scratching his beard.

                “If you’re feeling particularly impatient, _you_ can always call _her_ ,” Ignis suggested.

                Noctis sighed, wrinkling up his nose.

                “He doesn’t want to be clingy,” Prompto interpreted, smiling at the man. “We have to trust them to do what’s right. Even though her emotions can get the better of her, Cori is a smart, tough girl.”

                “Perhaps, but think of how you felt seeing the tanks of Besithia’s clones. Now imagine how she might react seeing more clones with your face. This is daunting for any child, but Corrianna shares a special bond with you, Prompto. This will be far from easy for her,” Ignis said.

                “ ‘Course we have a special bond; she’s my little girl.”

                “She’s always been a daddy’s girl. You two are similar in a lot of ways,” Noctis pointed out, eyeing his husband.

                “She’s got Russ there,” Prompto replied, hoping it would make him feel better.

                The men fell silent, retreating into their own thoughts. They all wanted to be there to help their kids, but they had a country to run. This was a situation they would need to deal with on their own.

                “I miss them,” Prompto mumbled.

                “We all do. But they’ll be home in a few days.”

                “We should recall Mira, too. It’d be nice to have the whole family home again.”

                Prompto scoffed, a curve to his lips. “Oddly enough, I even miss their bickering.”

                “Perhaps you’ll be adding a third to the Argentum Lucis Caelum brood?” Ignis suggested with an arched brow.

                Noctis and Prompto looked at one another, a silent conversation passing between them.

                “I dunno if that would be a good idea.”

                “We’ll have to have some story. They’ll probably want to bring him home, and once people see him, they’ll ask questions and spread rumors if we don’t answer.”

                “I know, but…it doesn’t feel right.”

                Noctis reached across the space between the chairs to squeeze Prompto’s arm.

                “Don’t fret. We’ll come up with a solution. Let’s see how everything unfolds in Gralea first, shall we?”

                “If they can put their selfishness aside and look at the bigger picture, they’ll do amazing things.”

                Prompto raised a brow. “I mean…you’d know all about that, right?”

                Wincing, Noctis flicked a glance at the man. “Y’know, even this many years later, that still stings.”

                “All water under the bridge, boys,” Ignis said as he pushed himself to his feet. “Thank you for the company, but I’d best return home before my husband wakes to find me missing. He hardly needs another excuse to be cranky these days.”

                “Thanks, Ig. Try and get a little more sleep.”

                “Likewise, Prompto.”

                When the door closed behind Ignis, a hush fell over Noctis and Prompto. The fire crackled away, lending them the light and warmth in the middle of the night as it had done so many times in the past.

                “Let’s go back to bed,” Noctis finally said, turning his full attention on Prompto. 

                “I don’t think I can sleep,” Prompto replied.

                “Was it that bad?”

                “I” —Prompto swallowed hard— “I was in one of those tanks. I was yelling and screaming, trying to get out. I was choking on the liquid those tanks are filled with, and my lungs burned. You and Cori and Mira were standing there, watching me die. It was fast and chaotic and terrifying and…there was another me with you…” Swiping his hands over his eyes, Prompto breathed out a shaky sigh.

                Noctis got to his feet and stood before Prompto. He combed his fingers through the man’s soft hair, persuading him to look up. “Prom, you are the only you. There could be hundreds of clones staring me down, but I’d always come to _you_ because you’re unique. You are the _only_ Prompto Argentum.”

                “Lucis Caelum.”

                Noctis’ brow twitched. “Huh?”

                “Prompto Argentum _Lucis Caelum_. You married me, remember?”

                “And I still can’t believe I’m so lucky.” Bending over, Noctis took Prompto’s hand and kissed the simple wedding band.

                Cheeks flushed, Prompto grinned at the man. “How can you _still_ make me blush this many years on?”

                “I’m not gonna reveal my tricks. You might use ‘em against me,” Noctis replied with a wink. Standing up straight, he put an arm behind his back and extended the other to Prompto. “Shall we?”

                Grabbing Noctis’ hand like he had done so many times before, he let the man pull him to his feet. Prompto considered himself the lucky one around here.

 

***

 

                “This is a lot of information to slog through,” Petram sighed after ten minutes of browsing the computer system. He turned from the screen to where Aura, Corrianna, and Russ sat on the floor in the middle of the room.

                “Best pick something and get reading then, four-eyes,” Germina teased as she did just that.

                “An unconvincing insult coming from someone who also wears glasses,” Petram replied.

                “Do you even know what a joke _is_ , Pete?” The woman sighed, rolling her eyes and shaking her head.

                Responding in kind, Petram shifted his attention back to the trio. “Are there any specifics you wish us to search?”

                “Uh…I guess anything you can find in regard to the clones or the Alpha Weapon,” said Corrianna. “That’s really why we’re here. The eggheads can scrub the system later.”

                “What’s an egghead?” Aura asked.

                “Someone who’s really smart,” Russ answered without looking up from the piece of tech he found to dissect.

                “It’s something we call our scientists,” Corrianna added.

                “Like a nickname?”

                “Pretty much, yeah. Y’know Aura, your knowledge base is very strange. Like, you know some things you shouldn’t, but don’t know some things you should,” Corrianna observed, tilting her head as she looked at him.

                Nodding, Aura pulled his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around his legs. “I told Pete, but my memory is like half a picture.”

                “Wonder why…?”

                “I surmise it has something to do with his early, likely violent, eviction from his development tank,” Petram said as he turned back to his terminal.

                “That makes sense. I guess they didn’t have time to finish uploading whenever they were uploading before the Scourge plague hit,” agreed Corrianna.

                “Uploading? Like a computer system?” Aura asked, brows furrowed. He fiddled with the sleeves of his too-big sweatshirt, the actions nervous and twitchy.

                “Well, when you think about it, people are just organic computers. You can program a brain, even if it’s way more complicated than programming a computer,” Russ explained with a shrug. As he spoke, he popped a panel off the device he was tinkering with to reveal a motherboard.

                Nodding slowly, Aura licked his lips and his frown deepened. “So, whoever created me was putting things in my head?”

                “At the very least, basic human functionality.”

                “I don’t like this.”

                “I did mention this may be difficult,” Petram reminded Aura as he selected a file.

                “I know, but I’m not so sure I want to learn what I am anymore.”

                Corrianna scooted closer to him and draped her arm around his shoulders. “None of what we learn here today will change who you _are_ ,” she told him. “You are Aura, and that’s all we care about.”

                “You aren’t going to get scared and leave me if you learn I’m a monster?” Aura asked, giving her a sidelong glance.

                “Of course not!”

                “We didn’t leave you after you went blank and threw Germina off me,” Russ reminded him.

                “I’d like to see more of that power,” admitted Germina. “Maybe not directed at me next time, though.”

                “I don’t like it,” Aura mumbled again.

                “Has it happened to you before?” Corrianna asked softly, returning her hands to her lap.

                Inhaling slowly, Aura dipped his head in a tiny nod.

                “Can you tell me about it?”

                “It’s…scary. I can’t control my actions. Like, I get locked away while my body takes over. I thought it only happened when I was in danger, but…” Aura trailed off with a shrug and a shake of his head. His hair, wavy from yesterday’s braid, bounced around his shoulders.

                “Sounds like a weird brainwashing thing…” commented Russ, scowling at his device.

                “Essentially. Danger likely triggers something in his _programming_ , and he goes into combat mode. A switch, if you will, to be turned on based on any manner of biological stimuli,” Petram explained.

                “You sound like you found something,” Corrianna said, looking over Aura’s head as she rubbed his back.

                The man sighed, sliding his glasses up on his face. “I’ve barely begun, in all honesty. Just in the few short entries I’ve skimmed, I’ve learned the Empire was prolific in their use of human clones as Magitek soldiers.”

                Lowering her head in a jerky nod, Corrianna averted her gaze, tucking her hands between her legs.

                “I’m guessing by your silence, you already knew this, Highness? One of the secrets your father divulged to you?” Petram questioned.

                Her cheeks colored and she remained silent.

                “Lever her alone, Pete. We always knew the Empire experimented on people and even made them into their weird soldiers. Are you surprised they used clones?” Germina droned from her own terminal, scanning files.

                “I’m not, but a little more information wouldn’t hurt,” Petram replied.

                “She told us what’s relevant without breaking her dad’s trust, and that should be enough,” Russ chimed in, finally looking up from his tinkering.

                “I meant no offense.”

                “It’s fine, Petram.” Licking her lips, Corrianna shook her head and pushed herself to her feet. “Just keep digging.”

                “So…I’m a weapon?” Aura surmised, brow drawn as he looked up at the woman.

                Corrianna made a small sound of disagreement in her throat as she wandered away from him. “Not at all. You may have been designed to be weaponized, but you escaped before that ever happened. You still have that instinct in you to fight, but we’ll teach you to control it, I promise.” Turning back toward him, she gave him a blinding smile.

                Russ’ gaze slid from the woman to Aura, and back to this _thing_ he was taking apart. The grin on Cori’s face wouldn’t even fool a blind man.

                “I don’t want to be afraid anymore.”

                “There’s nothing to be afraid of with us around,” Germina assured him.

                “Really?” Aura asked, sitting up a bit straighter.

                “Do you know what a Behemoth is, Sunshine?”

                Aura nodded. “Mm-hmm!”

                “You’ve got three lookin’ out for you. And a friend of the Judgement Bringer to top it off,” she stated with a wink.

                “Really?” His eyes brightened.

                “Well, figuratively,” scoffed Russ, lips curving.

                Aura’s brows twitched. “What does that mean?”

                “People compare us to Behemoths because we’re big and strong. But Cori really is friends with Ramuh, though,” he clarified.

                “What’s a Ramuh?”

                “He’s one of the Six. The Astrals, Gods who watch over our world,” Corrianna said, peeking over Germina’s shoulder like she could understand anything on the screen.

                “That’s the simple answer,” added Petram.

                Aura sprung to his feet, racing over to Corrianna and grabbing her hands. “Teach me more!”

                Blinking up at his curious face, she almost laughed. There was something so absurd about Petram’s voice coming out of someone with her daddy’s face. “I suppose we have time.”

                “I’ve never seen someone so excited to learn about the Astrals,” Russ muttered, returning to his tinkering.

                “Well, they are a fascinatingly horrid lot,” Petram said.

                “This is a lot of history, Aura. Are you sure it won’t be too much on top of everything else?”

                He gave an adamant shake of his head. “Facts and feelings are different. Facts don’t confuse me.”

                Smirking, Germina eyed her brother. Petram ignored her and continued reading.

                “Okay, let’s sit back down and I’ll give you my abridged version of the _Cosmogony_.”

                Eager, Aura plopped down next to Russ and watched Corrianna with round, attentive eyes. He listened as she spoke of the Six—the Archean, the Fulgurian, the Glacian, the Hydraean, the Infernian, and the Draconian—told their tales, their legends, and their roles on Eos. He stopped her to comment or to ask questions, often being answered by Petram or Germina, who knew the history better than Corrianna. Fascination painted his features as he ingested the stories. He shared strong opinions on some of the more questionable acts of the Astrals, varying from confusion to outrage.

                He enjoyed the tales about the Fulgurian most of all, as he protected Corrianna.

                “Until you’ve read the entire _Cosmogony_ yourself, that’s the best I can do,” Corrianna finished sometime later.

                Aura put his hands together and looked up at the ceiling. “Thank you for keeping Corrianna safe, Mr. Ramuh!”

                “I believe _Lord_ might be a more fitting title,” Petram said, trying not to laugh.

                “I’m sure he appreciates the sentiment,” giggled Corrianna, reaching out to pat Aura’s shoulder. A static shock snapped between them. Her eyes flew wide and she glanced from Aura to Russ.

                “That had to be a coincidence, right?” Russ asked cautiously.

                “I’m not so sure.”

                “Well, communication with the Astrals has always been your family’s forte, Cor,” Germina said, peeking over her shoulder. Her attention shifted to her brother as he slouched in his chair and sighed softly, glaring at the screen.

                Noticing Petram’s shift, Aura got to his feet and stood behind the man, putting his hands on his shoulders. “Are you okay?”

                “Given what I’ve just read, I suppose I am. This is all quite upsetting.”

                “What’s up, Pete?” Russ asked, getting up and putting his toy on another terminal.

                Nostrils flaring, Petram crossed his arms and swallowed hard. “If not for the plague and the complete collapse of the Empire, we would have had twelve highly trained, completely unrecognizable spies wandering Eos.”

                “Pete.”

                “Those twelve subjects were due to be elite infiltration units. The Empire had designs on all of Eos.”

                “We already knew that.”

                “But this…they would have succeeded.”

                Germina brought her chair over to read from her brother’s screen. “Intensive programming, training, cosmetic surgery, identity assignment, personal history…Holy shit.” Rubbing her hand over her mouth, she shook her head.

                “They have identification packages for all twelve, even though full incubation and programming was months from being complete,” Petram continued, his gaze locked on the lines of text.

                Aura’s fingers tightened on his shoulders.

                “Gives undercover a whole new meaning,” grumbled Corrianna.

                “I…was never supposed to be Aura,” he muttered, lowering his head and stepping away. “I was supposed to hurt people, destroy lives. I was supposed to…to kill…” Trailing off, he hugged himself and took another step away. He squeezed his eyes shut, hard enough to see bursts of color.

                Petram was out of his chair quickly, pulling Aura into a tight embrace. “That would have been someone else. _Not_ you. _You_ are no killer, Aurarum.”

                Aura’s body trembled against Petram’s and he was caught between pushing the man away and accepting the comfort. He mumbled something against the man’s shoulder.

                Petram tilted his head, trying to look into Aura’s eyes. “What was that?”

                “I remember.”

                Brow twitching, Petram glanced at the others. They watched him, faces taut with concern.

                “What do you remember?”

                “B-before I woke up. The last thing they were putting in my head.”

                Heart hammering against his ribs, Petram held Aura a little tighter. “Whatever it is, know it is not your fault. You are not that person.”

                “I…was supposed to kill Prompto Argentum.”


	30. Chapter 30

                The temperature in the room seemed to drop a few degrees and no one dared speak. Such a small admission, words from decades past, yet it was impossible to ignore. Impossible to brush off. When it came out of that face, when they all stood here, deep underground, dead clones in the next room.

                Petram held Aura as tightly as he dared. This was _not_ his fault. But he looked like the Prince. He said that with Corrianna standing not five feet away. Petram felt the need to protect Aura from the woman.

                Shaking like a leaf, Aura tried to hide against Petram’s chest. He was terrified of his own words, the information in his head, the things that could happen now that he was recalling the implanted orders.

                Corrianna’s mouth opened and nothing but an odd throat-sound came out. Brow deeply furrowed, she stared at the floor, trying to get her thoughts together. “But you didn’t…and you won’t," she eventually managed.

                “But I might still try! What if you take me back with you and I do something awful?” His voice was muffled, garbled against Petram’s chest.

                “You won’t!” Corrianna nearly shouted, hands clenched at her sides. “Your orders are obsolete! Your broken programming no longer matters!”

                “I understand you’re frustrated, Princess, but you needn’t shout at him,” Petram gently admonished, turning to put himself between them.

                “Frustrated? _Frustrated_? I am so far beyond frustrated, you’ve got no Gods-damned idea!” Voice raised to an actual shout, Corrianna found her hands shaking.

                “Cor, maybe you should take a walk,” suggested Germina, glancing from the woman to Russ. The man nodded.

                “C’mon, Cori,” he gently urged, reaching out to brush his fingertips across her arm.

                With a shuddering sigh, she turned and marched from the room in quick strides. Russ followed.

                Petram shushed Aura, stroking his hair as he cried silently. “She’s not angry with you, Aura. She’s angry with the situation.”

                “She’s running through all the what-ifs and it's pissing her off. Russ will calm her down and everything will be fine,” Germina said, eyes back on the screen. “Titan’s ass…the Empire was chock full of twisted minds. They wanted him to dispose of Prompto and take his place, destroying Insomnia from the inside out.”

                Aura hiccupped, trying very hard to make himself small in Petram’s arms.

                “We’re aware,” sighed Petram. “You’re alright, Aura. No need for the tears.”

                “B-b-but what if I _am_ bad?”

                “There’s not a bad bone in your body, love. Look at you; would a bad person be so upset over a hypothetical situation? Besides, like Corrianna said, the order given is obsolete. You’ve outgrown it, or it was corrupt over the years. It isn’t a problem anymore.”

                “You don’t know that!”

                “Not definitively, no, but given how you’ve behaved toward us thus far, it’s highly unlikely. And even if you happen to have an _episode_ when you meet him, no one will let you do anything to hurt him. You’ve nothing to worry about,” Petram assure him, stroking his hair.

                “I’ve never had _more_ to worry about!” Aura retorted.

                Swallowing past a lump in his throat, Petram wasn’t sure what to say to make Aura feel better. Was it just going to keep going in circles until Aura realized he wasn’t going to complete his orders? Or would he shut down first, overwhelmed?

                “Didn’t I just tell you there’s nothing to be afraid of with us around?” Germina grumbled, getting to her feet.

                “But—?”

                “No _buts_ , Sunshine. C’mere a second.”

                Separating himself from Petram just enough to peek up at him, he slid an uncertain, watery gaze toward Germina.

                “Stop looking at me like that and come here. I’ve got an important secret I need to share with you.” Crossing her arms, she arched a brow.

                Aura’s gaze slid back to Petram.

                A soft, reassuring smile settled on Petram’s lips as he released Aura and wiped the cuff of his shirt sleeve across freckled cheeks to dry away his tears. “It’s alright.”

                Reluctantly stepping away from Petram, Aura crossed the short distance to where Germina stood. She hooked her arm around his shoulders and turned their backs toward Petram. They slowly walked a few more steps away.

                “I told you we’d protect you, right?”

                Brow furrowed, Aura nodded. “Yes?”

                “Protection is a two-way street around here,” she continued, voice low.

                “I don’t understand.”

                “I need _you_ to protect _him_.”

                Aura blinked at Germina, eyes narrow with confusion.

                Germina sighed, rolling her eyes. “Pete needs someone to look after him,” she whispered. “Can you do that for me?”

                “But I can’t—”

                “I don’t mean in a fight, Sunshine. There are other things than monsters people need protection from.”

                “I still don’t understand.”

                “It’ll take time, but you will. I just need to know you’ll look after him for me.”

                Aura looked into Germina’s mismatched eyes, his own big and round. “Of course!”

                “Good. You stick by him, and he’ll stick by you.” Patting the top of Aura’s head, Germina released him. “Now, this was a secret, okay? You can’t tell the others. Especially not Pete.”

                Aura nodded enthusiastically. Without thought, he wrapped his arms around her waist and gave her a tight hug. “Thank you, Gem.”

                Stiff at first, she eventually melted into Aura’s embrace. “Any time, Sunshine.” Giving him a tight squeeze, she released him and ruffled his hair. “Gods, you’re cute.”

                He gave her a shy smile and turned back to Petram. He watched them with a quirked brow.

                “What on Eos was that about?” he asked, gaze shifting between the pair.

                “None of your business, Petey. It’s a secret between me and Sunshine,” she replied with a wink in Aura’s direction.

                Aura flashed a brief grin, but it quickly faltered. “But I’m still scared. I don’t want to hurt anyone, and I don’t want Cori to hate me.”

                Holding out an arm, Petram silently beckoned Aura back into a hug. He put his arm around the blond’s shoulders while Aura slid his own arms around Petram’s waist. Putting his head on the taller man’s shoulder, Aura sighed. It felt like his entire body relaxed with the breath.

                “I promise we’ll do our utmost to keep you from hurting anyone. And Corrianna does not hate you,” Petram reiterated. “I’m not sure how many times, or how many ways I can say this before you believe me.”

                Aura didn’t answer, just readjusted his grip on Petram’s waist.

                A half-smile curved Germina’s lips as she watched her brother and Aura. They really did suit one another. Now that she wasn’t so focused on her jealousy of Russ, she was seeing more of what was going on around her. She saw how much Aura liked Petram, but there was nothing ulterior or selfish about the way he looked at him. She had no doubt he had a baser attraction as well, he was human after all, and male, but she doubted Aura understood anything about sex. She was okay with that. This was the kind of relationship her brother needed; someone to see him for who he truly was, not just a piece of meat.

                “Okay boys, we have research to do. You can cuddle later,” she teased.

                Predictably, Petram’s cheeks flushed ad Aura tipped his head, eyes round with innocent confusion. Thinking he was sneaky about it, Petram kissed the top of Aura’s head and quickly released him when Germina turned away. Clearing his throat, he settled back into his chair to continue reading.

                Germina slid her gaze toward her brother, not even trying to hide her grin. “I saw that, Petey-boy.”

                Face a dark shade of red, he shifted in his seat. “Never you mind.”

                Germina barked out a laugh.

                Aura sat on the floor between them, brow furrowed. He hoped he’d understand this sort of thing soon because all this confusion was irritating.

 

***

 

                Russ followed a few paces behind Corrianna as she stomped down the hallway. He didn’t blame her for her anger, though it was misguided. She was going through a lot of complicated shit right now, and she didn’t have any outlets. He could be one, but it made her feel guilty. He wasn’t sure what to do now. How had he comforted her before?

                _A rainy afternoon in Insomnia, cold and miserable. Russ found himself with nothing to do, and he was bored. Ma didn’t have any jobs for him, so the couch and a book sounded like a good plan._

_He just settled in on the big, comfortable sectional with a blanket and his book when the doorbell rang. Sighing, he pushed the blanket back and reluctantly went to answer the door. On the other side, red-eyed with a shy, sheepish smile in place, stood Cori, holding up two extra large to-go cups from their favorite café._

_“Hey,” she greeted, looking up at him from under her brows._

_“Hey,” he replied, stepping aside so she could come inside. “You okay? Your eyes are all red and puffy.”_

_“Uh…yeah. Just an argument, nothing serious,” she replied, handing him his coffee and kicking off her shoes._

_Sighing, Russ followed her into the house. “Cor, if it was enough to make you cry, it was serious,” he said for the umpteenth time._

_“I wasn’t crying. It’s just allergies,” she answered for the umpteenth time._

_“Cor, you don’t_ have _allergies,” he reminded her._

_Shrugging, she plopped down on the couch and took a sip from her cup._

_Sitting down next to her, Russ shook his head. “Are you_ ever _gonna tell me what’s going on?” he asked._

_Putting her coffee on the table, she turned and took Russ’ arm, lifted it, snuggled against his side, and curved his arm across her chest. She sighed heavily, pulling her feet up onto the couch and leaning her entire weight against Russ. But she didn’t answer._

_Twisting, Russ put his own coffee down and wrapped his other arm around her shoulders. “Corgi…”_

_“I promise, it really isn’t important. And don’t call me that. Can you just…read to me, or talk to me like you always do?” she mumbled._

_Russ chuckled, propping his chin on top of her head. “You think I’d say no?”_

_“You might.”_

_“Sayin’ no to you is askin’ the impossible, Cor.”_

_She was quiet, her chest rising and falling in slow, even breaths. Her ears glowed red. “So…whatcha reading?”_

_Russ laughed. “Well…”_

                Watching the woman walking ahead of him, Russ stopped and blinked at her. He had been overcomplicating things, overthinking his every word. All she wanted was a friend; the friend she always knew, the friend he had always been.

                “Cori, c’mere.”

                She stopped but didn’t turn around or reply.

                “C’mon, Corgi…”

                Breathing out a soft sigh, she lowered her head and grumbled. “You’re never gonna stop with that dumb name, are you?” Crossing her arms, she slowly turned to face the man.

                “No. Now come over here.”

                She narrowed her eyes. “Why?”

                Russ blinked at the woman and put his hands on his hips.

                “Fine!” Wrinkling up her nose, she practically stomped back toward him. “Now, what do you want?”

                Stooping low to cover their height difference, Russ wrapped his arms around her and squeezed. He had no book to read her, or words to speak to her, so he relied on his embrace alone.

                “Clarus—? What are you doing?”

                “What’s it look like, dummy?”

                With a huff, Corrianna wrapped her arms around his back as best she could. “Okay, _why_ are you doing this?”

                “Because regardless of what has, or will happen, I’m still your best friend. Despite what you think, you can still rely on me just as much now as you always have. This whole situation with your dad, the clones, and Aura is dumb and complicated, and I want you to talk to me. That’s why I’m here.”

                “Well, technically you’re here to protect me,” Corrianna mumbled against his shirt.

                Russ rolled his eyes. “Yeah, okay, if you want to get technical. I’ll protect you from yourself, too.” Releasing her and standing up straight, he crossed his arms.

                She mirrored his stance.

                “I thought we fixed this last night, but…truth be told, I miss the familiarity between us, Cor. All this bullshit has made us strangers, and I don’t like it,” Russ admitted, his cheeks hot.

                One brow arched, Corrianna shifted her stance, dropping her weight onto one leg. Blinking softly and shaking her head like she was watching a puppy misbehave, Corrianna let Russ stew for a minute. Letting her arms fall to her sides, she tilted her head and smiled. A beautiful, genuine smile.

                “And here I thought my dads were the biggest softies in the kingdom. Clarus, we’re closer now than we’ve ever been, so don’t take my behavior personally, okay? You’re right; this whole thing _is_ dumb and complicated, and like I said last night, my heart keeps getting broken. Granted, you’re always there to pick up the pieces. I’m in shambles, half-way between a complete breakdown and a complete shutdown. It’s really everything I can do to keep myself together as much as I am. And look how well that’s going…I can’t believe I yelled at him. None of this is his fault, he didn’t ask for this.”

                “He’ll be okay. He’s got Pete and Germ there to explain things to him,” Russ told her, putting his hand on her shoulder.

                Corrianna scoffed. “Y’know, seeing Aura and Pete interact is another oddity I have to get past,” she said, wrinkling up her nose. “It’s like watching daddy and Uncle Iggy together. It’s got all kinds of wrongness to it, but they clearly like each other. It’s, like, cute and disturbing all at the same time.”

                “Don’t worry about them. They _aren’t_ Prompto and Ignis, and they can sort out their own stuff. You have other things to worry about. Like getting to the bottom of whatever was going on here.” Giving her shoulder a squeeze, he stepped back and shook his head. “We’ve been talking in circles for days…do you feel like your thoughts keep getting scrambled, too?”

                “I mean, yeah? But I’ve just blamed it on current events.”

                Brow furrowed, Russ shrugged, unconvinced.

                “Well, whatever it is, thank you for always coming to my rescue.”

                “No pro— _uhh_!”

                Corrianna tackled him with a hug, knocking the wind from him. Squeezing him tight for a brief second, she let him go just as abruptly.

                “Okay, I think I’ve calmed down. Time to go apologize to everyone. Again.” Combing her bangs off her forehead, she turned and headed back to the computer lab.

                As always, Russ followed behind her.


End file.
